


Sing the Stars Right

by NebulousMistress



Series: The Shadow Over Atlantis [9]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Contains Science, Dark, Episode Related, Episode: s05e10 First Contact, Episode: s05e11 The Lost Tribe, Failed a Sanity Check, Gen, Implied Torture, Mentions of genocide, Miskatonic University, Other, did the research, post-transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 54,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Cultist is such a strong word' as Jack used to say. But Daniel was less worried about connotations. And now, with a Deep One on Atlantis, how could he resist the chance to work with a member of the servitor races? Imagine what they could learn...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Flimsy Excuse

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is Daniel's voice from [What They Never Knew](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7181669/chapters/16587406), very slightly edited. The story continues from there in third person central.

When I first met Dr. McKay he took me seriously.

That requires some convincing, I know. You've met the man. He takes nothing about my field seriously. Doesn't even consider it science for some reason. But that's okay. Really, I'm used to it. You have no idea how many years I spent trying to convince people of my theories before I saw for myself their validity, their potential.

So, no, he didn't take my field seriously. Or my presence. Or the situation. Mostly he was focused on trying to get his paws on Sam. But I knew even then that there was something odd about him. After all, he'd just taken **me** seriously.

Teal'c was trapped in the stargate's buffer and we had 48 hours to get him out before we were going to be forced to resume gate activity. At that point his pattern would be lost and he'd cease to exist.

It was about a day in when I made the suggestion to let me try something.

Jack looked uncomfortable as I know he's always been with this. Sam called out with a headache and a vote of 'no'. But Rodney?

First he asked me if I was insane.

He didn't give me any time to answer before he launched into his other demands.

'Did you have some sort of plan in mind or were you just going to ask nicely?'

'You realize Yog-Sothoth has no interest in our little problems, right?'

'The gate works fine right now, why would you think Yog-Sothoth would even care?'

'Wait, how, what, did the Air Force really authorize a sacrifice?'

Jack shut him up then and shot down my plan. More of an idea, really. But once we got Teal'c back and Rodney got sent back to Area 51 I got to thinking.

He had taken me seriously.

And he knew what he was talking about. In fact, he knew more then than I knew then. I hadn't actually gotten to a copy of the Necronomicon before then, I'd been operating mostly on rumor and what we learned from the neutral worlds.

It all makes sense now.

I met Professor Randall from Miskatonic University once. He'd taken a look at my ideas and directed me to studies done on certain standing stones in Continental Europe. I know that was the same man who recommended Dr. McKay into Area 51. I'd always wondered what he put in out midst.

Rodney's the Deep One on Atlantis, isn't he?

Ha! I **knew** it! Jack has **got** to let me go there now. Think of what we could learn!

And I believe I have an excuse. I have evidence Janus kept a lab on Atlantis...


	2. A Cultist's Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because he knows, just because he believes, it doesn't mean he's prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some banter lifted from the episode courtesy of the Gateworld.net transcript. Liberties have been taken.

The _Daedalus_ dropped out of hyperspace near a puffed orange star and a shining blue world. Dainty white clouds drifted through the atmosphere, lazily circling the great two-eyed storm that permanently engulfed the north pole. Twin continents dominated the southern hemisphere, teeming with plant life that seemed less green and more orange with every passing day.

A single floating city ruled the seas, meandering along the subtropical northern gyre.

Daniel Jackson stood on the bridge of the _Daedalus_ , watching the images that flickered on the screens. It was a beautiful planet, though that storm there spoke of a temper.

“Five moons,” he mused aloud. “I guess the enormous tides make up for the planet's lack of an orbital tilt?”

Colonel Caldwell gave Dr. Jackson a blank look.

“Never mind,” Daniel said. “I should probably...”

“Not so fast,” Caldwell warned. He held out his hand, two large white pills sitting in his palm. “Take these first.”

“What are they?” Daniel asked.

“Painkillers, just take them,” Caldwell said. “The headache will begin the moment you beam down.”

“Headache?”

“Dr. McKay's condition has some unforseen side effects,” Caldwell admitted. “The headache is just the most immediate. It'll start slow, pressure behind the eyes. Then it'll get worse, especially around Dr. McKay.”

Daniel dry-swallowed the pills. “Do we know why?” he asked.

Caldwell nodded. “There's three outcomes. First, the headache never goes away, but it never gets worse. Second, it gets horrendously bad and you'll need to be sedated. Either of those happen to you, you'll be returned to the _Daedalus_ for your own safety and your project is denied.”

“What? Because of a headache?”

“Third possible outcome, something in you snaps and you will hear the Song.”

Daniel looked oddly at Colonel Caldwell.

“Several members of the expedition have taken to calling it that,” Caldwell said, shrugging.

“And if I hear this 'Song'?” Daniel asked.

“Then your project has a chance, Dr. Jackson.” Caldwell stepped back as he nodded for Comms to broadcast their presence. Atlantis waited below and Dr. Jackson remained untested.

For now.

*****

The first thing he noticed about Atlantis was how bright it was.

And then there was the headache.

He smiled, though he felt it was more of a grimace. Caldwell had definitely undersold the strength of this headache.

“Dr. Jackson, welcome to Atlantis.”

Daniel turned toward the voice, found its owner. “Thank you, Mr. Woolsey,” he said. “It's good to be back.”

There were two others on the balcony. One he recognized as Colonel Sheppard, the other was...

He'd been told what to expect but...

“Rodney?” he asked.

The creature bleated and... chirped... at him as his headache spiked. The room spun for a moment and his vision went odd. Daniel only vaguely felt the floor as he dropped to his hands and knees and tried not to pass out.

The world moved all wrong, colors he could taste and sounds he could feel despite the pounding in his head. He could hear someone calling his name and then...

Then he was in Woolsey's conference room. He didn't remember coming here...

“Now the question is, what do we do about this?”

Daniel looked in the general direction of the voice. Mr. Woolsey was there, looking slightly worried. At least Daniel thought it was worry, it was hard to tell through the aura of light that added fuzzy halos to everything living. “What happened?” he asked.

“You became delirious,” Woolsey said. “Screamed something about the 'three-lobed eye' and the 'song of a thousand young'. You had to be sedated.”

Daniel looked around the room. Yep, it was the conference room. The gateroom sat one level below, visible through the floor-length windows. “Shouldn't I be in the infirmary?” he asked.

Woolsey shrugged. “In my experience a cultist's mental break doesn't benefit from mere medical treatment.”

Daniel leveled a glare at Woolsey.

“So, what do we do now?” Daniel asked.

“The prudent course of action would be to return you to the _Daedalus_.”

“No!” Daniel shouted. “You can't do that, not now! Not when we're so close!”

“You're in no condition to conduct any sort of research, not with Dr. McKay's Song affecting you as it is.”

There it was again, that odd reference to a 'Song'. What was this Song? “Just give me three days,” Daniel pleaded. “Caldwell said if I can hear the Song the pain goes away. Three days to try and hear it, that's all I ask. Please.”

Woolsey looked like he wanted to deny the request. He looked like he wanted to say no. Instead...

“Three days,” Woolsey agreed reluctantly.

*****

“Dr. McKay!”

Daniel's head swam as Mr. Woolsey called the Deep One over. Whatever painkiller Caldwell had slipped him must have worn off.

“I'll have Rodney here show you to your quarters,” Woolsey said cheerfully.

The Deep One bleated and Daniel grimaced. 'Spend time around him', Woolsey had said. 'Give the Song a chance to break through the pain. Get it over with quickly. Ask Dr. Keller for a sleep aid, you and I both know the Great Old Ones work in dreams.'

“Actually, I'd like to get started right away,” Daniel said. “If that's okay with you, Rodney.”

The Deep One that Daniel had been assured was indeed Dr. McKay snarled and hissed, its dorsal spines raised as its tail lashed.

“I'm sure you're familiar with the Ancient named Janus?” Daniel asked.

The Deep One perked up, rising up to two legs as its dorsal spines flattened. Clearly it understood him.

“He was a lead scientist and apparently a bit of a renegade,” Daniel continued. “I'm pretty sure I have information that can lead us to his secret lab.”

The Deep One's dorsal spines raised again and it crouched down as it gave a deafening shriek. Daniel clamped his hands over his ears and tried not to scream at the feeling of pressure in his head.

He barely noticed that Mr. Woolsey seemed almost completely unaffected.

“Explain,” Woolsey said. “What do you mean by 'secret lab'?”

Daniel shook his head, trying to dislodge the pain. The auras around everyone had grown brighter. “A place he conducted and subsequently hid a significant portion of his unauthorized research,” Daniel said though his voice sounded far away even to his own ears. “If I'm correct, it's right here. On Atlantis.”

*****

Research was going poorly.

Daniel could hardly focus, his head pounded so badly. Rodney must not be taking the project seriously as he laid halfway on the desk, idly tapping the 'page down' key while huffing and hissing and murring and generally making Daniel's headache worse.

McKay barked at him before launching into a tirade of bleats and barks and growls and hisses.

Daniel tried to ignore it but the pressure in his head got worse as McKay took offense to his dismissal.

The Deep One snarled and leapt forward, shoving Daniel out of his chair and against the wall. Daniel gritted his teeth as the pain bloomed hot in his brain, wrenching a scream from him and then...

Something... snapped.

It wasn't like ascension, like golden hooks pulling at his ribs, tearing him apart as they lifted him from his body, a painful ecstasy as bones broke and shattered, as flesh tore and boiled, searing his body to dust as he was rent asunder, matter annihilating to energy while inward he screamed and screamed and screamed...

It wasn't like conversion, like sinking into burning tar, liquid fire pulling him down, encasing him in heat and light and blackness, pressing on his mind, burning away his self, his body, replacing him with this pale puppet drenched in cloak and flame and oozing invisible ichor, a trail of fire and horror beneath his feet while what remained of his mind screamed thick bubbles into the oily, searing, suffocating nothingness...

It was a snap, like a line breaking, like plunging into open ocean, cold and clear and salty and he couldn't swim, flailing as the darkness engulfed him and he sank deeper, water filling his nose and mouth and into his lungs and then the pain was gone. And he could hear it.

The Song.

_Now can you hear me?_

“What?” Daniel asked. He was still shocked over the sudden end to his headache. There wasn't even a lingering pressure.

_Can you hear me._

“Rodney? Is... it that you?”

_That's a yes. Good. Now maybe you'll listen when I tell you we've been through the database with a fine-toothed comb. There's nothing here! No mention of a secret lab, no secret experiments, not even a hidden closet._

Daniel slid down the wall as Rodney let go of him. He found himself sitting on the floor, staring down at a pair of feet that weren't sure if they were fins or digitigrade paws. “I think... I need... to lie down...”

Rodney glared down at him and Daniel could **sense** the facial expressions in the otherwise expressionless face. There was impatience, disdain, but more than a little nervousness, worry, a self-conscious streak a mile wide. The low hiss meant he was concerned, the flutter under his gill plates meant he was afraid, the oddly blown pupils meant he was thinking to someone nearby, talking to them.

Singing to them.

“I'm okay...” Daniel insisted between slow deep breaths. “It's just... That was intense... Not like any other mental contact I've had before...”

“Is everything all right in here?”

Daniel looked up to find a marine. Had he been keeping watch or just passing by when he heard... What had he heard?

“I can hear him,” Daniel whispered, looking up at Rodney.

Rodney gave a low bleat, not quite a growl. _It wasn't easy on him. Tell Mr. Woolsey we're stopping early for the day but that Dr. Jackson can hear me._

“Will do, Doc.” The marine left.

“Will I be able to hear... everything you say?” Daniel asked.

_Unless I direct it. Or you're too far away. Or I'm not talking to you or any number of reasons. C'mon, you need to process this. Food then sleep._

Daniel allowed himself to be lifted off the floor by this creature, this colleague, and reminded himself that this was far from the weirdest thing in his life. Didn't even make the top five.


	3. An Unforseen Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This should be weird. They told him, warned him, insisted it would be. Thus far the only weird thing was that damned purr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some banter lifted from the episode courtesy of the Gateworld.net transcript. Many liberties have been taken.

“Are those water lines?” Daniel asked.

Daniel and Rodney walked the corridor hinted at in the database. Water marks on the walls spoke of just how lucky they were that the corridor was only flooded by a few inches. The place stank of mildew and stagnance and rotting salt. Yet Rodney didn't seem the slightest bit bothered by the stench even as Daniel hid his face inside his own shirt.

_This area's been flooded a few times._ Rodney pointed out the various lines crusted on the walls as he mentioned them. _Storm our first year here. Here's from when the replicators tried to sink the city with us in it, that was fun. Can you imagine? My gills had just burst and now I was gonna get to watch everyone around me drown. We're lucky this place is above water. Well, you're lucky._

“Ick,” Daniel agreed, only vaguely listening. “Well, it's remote, that's promising. He wouldn't want anyone around when he came in and out of his lab.”

_Ooo, like the Batcave._

“Yes, just like the Batcave.”

Daniel shone his flashlight around, the only source of light he had in this dark stinky mess. Water sloshed around his feet, wicking up his pants and soaking through to make his socks and legs and feet feel gross.

“Smells like a Batcave,” Daniel mused.

_I wouldn't know._

“Why not?”

_Lost my sense of smell._

“Lucky you,” Daniel muttered.

_Ah hah!_

“Find something?” Daniel asked.

Rodney didn't answer. Instead he took a running jump and landed on his belly, sliding forward through the water like a penguin on ice. His tail lashed out behind him, trying to steer in some way even as he careened headfirst toward a wall.

Thud.

_Ow._

Daniel stood staring at the Deep One, this horrible, frightening creature of legend as it disentangled itself from a disarray of limbs and spines. Rodney shook himself off, spread his dorsal spines, and flared his gill plates. Only then did he have the audacity to look sheepish at, what, at having been seen acting frivolous? Or was it 'stupid'?

“You found a wall...”

Rodney huffed and murred. The sound had no words attached to it but Daniel could clearly see the 'I meant to do that'.

Daniel rolled his eyes and looked at the walls. The water lines were more pronounced here, the remains of a strange purplish plankton still crusting where the surface had once been. Gross. Oh, but this was interesting. “Something used to be attached here,” he said.

Rodney unfolded himself from his sprawl and hopped over to the wall. He sidled up to the wall and looked in the recess with one shining blue eye. _Looks like a run of the mill sconce interface._

“Here's two more.” Daniel shone his flashlight into an empty recess, peering intently. All the better to not focus on Rodney's bright glowing eyes. “Where are the sconces?”

A trip to the lab and then Archival Storage found them the lights they needed, and Dr. Jackson a handkerchief he could tie around his face.

All three sconces lit easily, each one singing a different tone when touched. “It's a puzzle,” Daniel realized. “I think we need to activate these in a specific order.”

_You mean like a three digit code? D'you know how easy that'd be to break? There's only six variations._

“Well, maybe we need to activate them a number of times in a specific order. I don't suppose you recognize any of these three notes.”

_What, you mean, does it remind me of Janus's favorite Brian Eno track? No, no such luck._

“Well, Janus's assistant said he disappeared pretty quickly down the hallway, so it can't be a long code. Maybe it's just as simple as three tones in a row.”

_Go for it._

Daniel carefully tapped the sconces, making them sing their three unique notes. First in ascending order, then descending. Nothing. Next he tried tapping the middle note first, then high then low. Nope.

Mid, low, then high? Nope.

Daniel scowled at the sconces. There was a trick to this, he just couldn't figure it out. And where the hell was...

Um...

What?

Rodney had pressed himself against the dead end. He laid against the wall, from his white underbelly to his chest and throat. His eyes were half-closed, claws gently scraping at the wall as a low thrumming **purr** reverberated through the corridor. “Um...” Daniel said.

One dreamy eye opened fully and swivelled to look at him. _I have an idea. Come here and push against this wall._

“You rammed headlong into it earlier and it didn't open then,” Daniel said, not sure if he was mocking the Deep One or simply confused.

The purring morphed into a low growl before falling back into a comfortable purr. _Just humor me, I think I'm on to something._

Daniel nodded and watched as Rodney almost reluctantly pulled himself away from the wall. He placed his hands against the stone, eerily warm where Rodney had been molesting it.

_Okay, on the count of three I want you to push against the wall as hard as you can, okay?_

“Okay,” Daniel said.

_One, two, three._

Daniel pushed as he heard the sconces sing behind him. Their notes harmonized into a single multilevel song and suddenly the wall wasn't there anymore.

He fell to the floor, surrounded by oppressive darkness. At least the smell hadn't followed him.

And then it had. Daniel hadn't realized earlier just how... fishy Rodney smelled.

“Ow.”

Daniel looked over at a pair of glowing eyes crouched next to him, tuning out a mental babbling about Tesla and magnetism and Edison being a dick. He took only one thing from Rodney's tirade, that they could have simply walked through the wall instead of tumbling through it like he had.

Daniel would have to get Rodney back for that. Later, though. For now the room was lighting up in the presence of Rodney's ATA gene. Screens and displays came to life, crystals glowed white as power coursed through them. Devices all around them began flashing little lights, all vying for their attention.

Janus's lab.

Rodney began purring again.

*****

Twenty four hours.

No! Not even 24 hours. One day, just one single day, that's all he asked! All right, a day on Atlantis was somewhere in the 27 and a half hours long but it was the principle of the thing!

But no. No, they had to be captured! Himself and Dr. McKay. Kidnapped and stripped of everything they had, even his clothes.

Well, at least he'd managed to get Rodney back for that little wall stunt.

And at least they were out of the cell, though how exactly they were supposed to fix a dead machine at gunpoint he had no idea.

Fortunately McKay didn't seem too fazed by that part.

*****

Daniel watched as Rodney paced back and forth between the console and the window overlooking the machine. The Deep One seemed to have given up bipedality for the moment, stalking on all fours like a lizard before using his forepaws to haul himself up to look at console or peer through window.

The machine behind the window didn't look particularly dangerous, though Daniel could never be sure with these things. It wouldn't have been out of place on a _Frankenstein_ set with those large antennae that looked like they were built to shoot huge bolts of electricity just for the hell of it.

Daniel shook his head and turned to another console, reading the various figures that came up. Core temperature, flux, power consumption...

Wait...

“This facility's tapped into some pretty serious power generation,” he realized. “I've never seen anything like it before.”

Rodney stopped pacing, rising to two feet. _You'd need a lot of power..._

“What?”

_I think I know what this thing does._

Daniel did not like the tone of that low hissing or the soft murr just on the edge of his hearing. “What?” he asked.

_It's an end game machine._

Oh. Daniel swallowed nervously. “How so?”

_If it works the way I think it does, it would mean the end of the Wraith once and for all._

“So... how do you destroy the Wraith 'once and for all'?”

_I never said 'destroy'. I mean, it would lead to that, I suppose. But this machine would stop them dead in their tracks._

“How?”

This time Daniel listened as Rodney explained hyperspace drives and their different inherent frequencies. How this machine disrupted one specific frequency, the one that the Wraith used, shredding any ship that tried to enter subspace. How they'd be trapped using sub-light only, doomed to be picked off one by one or left to wander the Void forever, slowly starving to death as they fed upon each other until only one remained, dying alone in the vastness of space.

It was not a pleasant thought.

The machine had been tested once, only once, for three days. Then it was shut down forever. 'Unforseen consequences', two words that could mean so much while saying so little.

*****

Rodney was applauding him.

Rodney was applauding him in the most sarcastic, unimpressed, frustrated way imaginable.

_Good job. Great plan, Danny, **great** plan._

Daniel glared at the Deep One. Rodney acted as though he was the one who's life was under threat. As though he was the one who'd die when they failed to get this machine running.

All he'd done was tried talking to it. Surely an intelligent creature could recognize the sentience and sapience of others and, dunno, maybe have some respect for the lives and freedoms of other beings? Was that too much to ask? That for once they'd be kidnapped by someone who could be reasoned with?

Still...

“Why the suits?” Daniel mused aloud.

Rodney hissed, gill plates flared and dorsal fin raised. He was clearly uninterested in such contemplation as he got to working on the machine in earnest.

Soon it was done. The Ancients hadn't disabled or destroyed or dismantled their machine, no, they'd simply turned it off.

It turned on just as easily.

Electricity sparked up the antennae just as Daniel figured it might, eventually rising up to dance along the walls in great blue-white arcs that left bright trails on his retinas. He closed his eyes, watching those trails as they danced behind closed lids. The loud crackling and popping almost drowned out the sounds Rodney was making as he continued... something...

All of those sounds stopped in one tiny shriek. It sounded like an 'eep' but it was far too big. Too ominous.

Soon he knew why.

They tried to turn the machine off but they were too late.

Too late.

 


	4. A Monster's Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sight of a monster and its translator-servant was once a common sight in Civilized Pegasus. The Vanir are pleased to see the tradition returning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some banter lifted from the episode courtesy of the Gateworld.net transcript. Many liberties have been taken.
> 
> I swear, the episode rewrite is almost over. Then we can get to the good stuff.

The stargates.

Every stargate in the Pegasus Galaxy was in danger. Millions of people were going to die if they couldn't get that damned machine turned off.

At least this time the cell didn't have lasers.

Rodney was busy prying open a wall panel with his claws when the door opened. An alien came in and pointed at Daniel.

“You. Come with me.”

Daniel didn't have time to ask more than 'why' before Rodney was between them, crouched on all fours hissing a warning.

The alien drew its weapon.

Rodney's dorsal spines fell and the hiss turned pleading. Daniel could hear Rodney's offer to go in his place even though they both knew the alien showed no sign of understanding him.

“I'll go,” Daniel said. He slid one hand down the scales of Rodney's back before leaving with the alien.

Maybe he could reason with them.

Maybe not.

Daniel was brought to a control room, one he'd never seen. He caught a glimpse of the readings up on the screens, ship statuses and launch preparations. These aliens were planning to leave.

“You wished to speak to me.” The alien did not pose it as a question.

“You're the leader?” Daniel asked. No answer. Fine then, pleasantries were over. “You need to shut this device down immediately.”

That got the alien's attention. It turned to face him. “No. I do not.”

Daniel took a deep breath, ignoring his own reflection in the alien's blank artificial stare. “Okay, look, I understand wanting to destroy the Wraith, I do, but this isn't the way.”

“I disagree.”

“I don't know if you're aware of this or not,” Daniel explained. “But this device has a serious side effect. It makes stargates explode when they're activated.”

“We do not use the stargates.”

“Okay, but lots of other people do,” Daniel said.

“They are of no concern to us.”

That statement made Daniel's blood run cold. “So you're just going to let them die,” he accused. “Millions of people across the galaxy.” He sneered as the alien gave no indication it even heard him. “You're no better than the Wraith.”

The alien nodded. “Perhaps,” it admitted. “But we have little choice.”

Daniel couldn't believe this. There was always a choice. “Why?”

“Our planet is dying,” the alien said. “It can no longer sustain us. For the first time in countless generations we must venture out into this galaxy again, a galaxy controlled by the Wraith. If we do not destroy them, they will destroy us. This is the way it must be.”

“We're talking about the deaths of **millions** of people,” Daniel said, hoping this alien would understand. “How can you be so callous? And what is it you're afraid of? Why are you still in your battle armor? I can't hurt you. You took everything from us, I don't even have pants.”

The alien didn't answer. Daniel could only hope he was getting through to it.

“I know you're not human and you're definitely not Wraith,” Daniel said. “And if you were an Ancient you wouldn't have needed our help activating the device. So what are you?”

The alien looked almost contemplative, or maybe Daniel had been spending so much time with Rodney that he was imagining emotion on expressionless faces. It stepped away from him, facing the wall as the suit's pressure seal broke with a soft hiss.

The suit opened.

Daniel couldn't believe it. He knew that shape. But they were all...

“You're Asgard,” Daniel realized.

“You've encountered our kind before,” the Asgard said. It moved more gracefully than those Daniel had met.

Suddenly it struck Daniel. This was why they took his clothes. Nobody here **wore** clothes. It kept them all on a level social playing field. “Not just encountered,” he said. “I've worked with them, even called some of them my friends.”

“Indeed?”

“Of course the Asgard I knew were a noble race who actually **helped** the human population of my galaxy,” Daniel snapped, not stopping the bitterness from seeping into his voice.

“And where are they now?”

Daniel could not keep the pain from his voice or his expression. “Dead.”

“Hmm...”

“It had nothing to do with us,” Daniel insisted.

“Are you certain?”

“They were clones,” Daniel said. “Copies of copies of copies going back generations and they suffered irreversible genetic degradation as a result. But you probably already know that.”

“Of course,” said the Asgard. “Because we are clones as well, subject to the same law of diminishing returns. And yet **we** are still very much alive.”

“So, what, you solved the problem?”

“Not entirely. But once we were able to conduct our research without interference we made significant progress.”

“Research on humans,” Daniel realized. “Because our physiology is similar to what yours used to be.”

“Precisely.”

“I take that back, I **have** met an Asgard like you before,” Daniel drawled, a sneer curling his lips. “His name was Loki. He was experimenting on humans, too, until he was caught and brought to justice before the Asgard High Council.”

“Because they did not believe the ends justify the means.”

“Precisely,” Daniel said. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling superior, like he'd won the argument.

And then he lost.

“And look where it got them,” the Asgard said.

Daniel's arms fell back to his sides. There would be no argument to sway the Asgard. There never had been. Mere words were nothing more than whispers next to deafening actions.

“We came to this galaxy during the war. With both the Wraith and the Ancients occupied we were free to conduct our experiments. Unfortunately the hostilities came to an end sooner than we'd thought and with an unexpected result.”

“You were betting on the Ancients,” Daniel realized. “They may have tried to shut you down but at least they wouldn't exterminate you.”

“The Wraith do not tolerate the presence of advanced technologies other than their own,” the Asgard continued. “Before we knew what was happening, we were under attack. We lost our intergalactic ships in the first battle and we did not have the resources to build more.”

“So how did you survive?”

“We had no choice but to abandon our settlements and retreat to a place where the Wraith would not look for us: a planet with a toxic atmosphere.”

Daniel nodded in surprise. “That sounds... nice...”

“It was tolerable at first. We were able to survive using simple breathing apparatuses, but over the aeons the environment has grown so harsh that not even our armored exoskeletons can protect us now.”

“So you ventured back into the galaxy and that's where you came across this place.”

“We knew it was built by the Ancients and why, but we were unable to activate it. Until you and your monere came along.”

Daniel tried one last time to reason with the Asgard. “Look, I'm sorry that you were trapped on a poisonous planet for the last ten thousand years, I really am, I'm sure it was awful. But that doesn't justify what you're doing.”  
  
It didn't work. “My people are dying,” the Asgard said. “The fact that, as you tell us, our brothers are already gone only reinforces the need. If we do not do this, our whole civilization, a hundred thousand years of history, will be wiped out forever. I cannot allow that to happen.”

*****

The guard or warrior or whatever caste their keeper fell under tossed Daniel back into their cell and left him there.

_Are you okay? I thought you were a goner!_

Daniel dragged himself to a sitting position where the Asgard had thrown him. “I'm all right,” he said.

_I mean, they need me, you're kind of expendable. Unless they don't realize I've been blocking them for a reason, maybe they think I keep you as a translator..._

“Good to know,” Daniel said as he hauled himself up. Crouching like that might work for Rodney but it was hell on his knees.

_Well, what did they want?_

“Um, well, to talk, actually.”

_Oh. How'd that go?_

“They're Asgard.”

_For real?! Huh. No wonder they don't believe in pants._

Daniel couldn't help the snort at that. To cover it he explained what the Asgard were doing here while Rodney mucked around in the wall panel with his bare claws.

_So are they gonna shut off the device?_

“Um, no,” Daniel admitted.

 _Then I don't care._ Instead Rodney launched into a tirade about how they were going to escape. Something about the fire monitoring system and then the door was unlocked.

And they had no plan. But at least they were out.

At least, they had no good plan. Daniel had to keep shooting down Rodney's bad plan. Nobody intelligent ever fell for the 'explosion over there let's go see' plan. These were Asgard, they needed a better plan than that.

And then a plan stood in front of them.

Rodney shrieked, fell to his belly on the floor, and whined plaintively, murring fealty and terror up at the two battle suits that... didn't... react...

They were empty suits.

“Rodney, they're just suits,” Daniel said.

Rodney's tail lashed as he kept up his bleating grovel. _Yes, suits, suits that house one of the smartest races that ever evolved! I mean, the Asgards! I've always been a big fan of the Asgards, one of my best friends was--_

“They're empty suits.” Daniel waved his hand over the faceplate. No reaction.

Rodney murred, though this time it was in angry embarrassment.

Daniel merely looked at him, trying to hide his amusement.

Rodney snarled. _Look, grovelling is an important skill! Father Dagon and Mother Hydra are right there at the head of every Earth Nest and they choose who gets sacrificed towards the great plan of making the stars right and even if they succeed that's gonna be a big vast most of us all eaten! Grovelling is a master survival strategy for being killed last._

Daniel held his hands up in mock surrender even as his head ached from the onslaught of mental shouting. “Okay, okay, I get it, I'm sorry.”

Rodney fell back into a murring sound, a grudging acceptance.

Daniel's eyes fell back to the suits. “You know, from what I could tell, the suits conform to whoever's in them...” he mused aloud.

Rodney stopped murring and looked at the suit, nudging its hand with his snout. _One size fits you?_

“Maybe not just me...”

*****

 _I look like a lizard in this_.

Daniel had to agree. The armored battle suit had indeed conformed to the Deep One's shape. The eye lenses sat on either side of the snouted head, the suit's spine raised in armored plates like a crocodile's, the feet were large with visibly separated toes, and Rodney's long tail was held largely rigid to complete the distinct lizardy look. Still, if he could get Rodney to stand upright he almost looked passable.

“You look fine,” Daniel insisted. “Now come on.”

_So we're just going to walk into the control room like this, shoot the guards, and no one will be the wiser? How many lizard Asgard have you seen around here?_

“Just stand behind me, maybe they won't get a good look. These HUDs are distracting.”

_Ugh, tell me about it. I can't get binocular vision in this helmet._

“Shh, okay, here we go.”

They took the control room with ease. Too much ease.

The control key was gone.

They'd have to stop this machine another way.

_You know... I have a really terrible idea..._

*****

It really was a terrible idea.

Daniel should not have gone in with Rodney.

Of course he'd be the one struck by an electrical discharge. Current flowed along the path of least resistance and Rodney had literally crawled along the floor like a lizard.

If he got out of this he was never letting Rodney live down the lizard thing.

But it meant he'd stood there, a giant target for any electrical discharge vengeful enough to decide to try to take them down.

He'd known pain, a bone-deep pain that took his breath so he couldn't even scream. He vaguely heard the machine power down then a faint voice in his mind, the sensation of movement as he was dragged out of the radiation-filled room.

His helmet came off. He looked up into the the blank black lenses of Rodney's helmet, the apparatus distorted over a snout the machine was never built to contain.

_Okay, you're okay, you're okay..._

“Ow...” Daniel groaned as his body felt like it was burning from the inside out. That was more than just electricity and the suit's insulation was keeping it from grounding out. He didn't know if he'd survive if it did... “Did you turn it off?”

_I did... we did... **you** did... Where does it hurt?_

“Everywhere...” Daniel paced his breathing. He knew that if he screamed he would never stop. “I don't suppose... there's a hospital nearby...”

 _I'm... I'm pretty sure we're on our own..._ Rodney made a sound audible even through the suit's speech interface. It sounded like a bleating whine. _Look, I mean, on the bright side, I mean, we're both gonna be dead of dehydration in, what, five days? More like two days for me so you won't have to put up with me for much longer._

“I'm... pretty busted up, Rodney,” Daniel gasped. “I don't... think I'm gonna make it two days...”

Rodney leaned down to nuzzle Daniel's face with his armored snout, bleeding some of the electricity out into his own suit. _I know it may not seem like it... but... I want you to know I really respect--_

The room faded in a flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ancient is based off of Latin or maybe Latin is based off of Ancient, no?
> 
> 'Monere' is the Latin root behind our modern word 'monster'.


	5. A Monere Attrect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monster will touch many but there's only one who has the honor to be called its Voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of banter was lifted from the episode courtesy of the Gateworld.net transcript. All of the liberties have been taken.

The Asgard had never asked for their names and in return Daniel had not demanded theirs. Nevertheless their leader had called Daniel by a name, perhaps a title, in Ancient.

Fata Monere.

It was a curious title and Daniel had not sought to correct the Asgard in his assumption nor asked for clarification. However, he was puzzled by what exactly the Asgard had meant.

After all, the word 'monere' had two meanings in Ancient.

Teacher or monster.

It puzzled him because McKay was no teacher, though perhaps the Asgard had gotten that impression from how Daniel watched and talked and read consoles while McKay had silently done all of the work. But they couldn't have meant 'monster', not while giving Daniel the impression that this rank of 'Fata Monere' was something to be respected.

Either translation left something to be desired. Daniel Jackson did not want to be known by the Asgard as 'McKay's Voice'.

*****

Daniel lay in his bed in the infirmary. There was little he or they or anyone could do. The electricity had been bled off, the excess energy grounded in a safe manner. Now there was nothing to do but wait for his myelin sheaths to repair themselves, which Dr. Keller assured him was coming along nicely. Until then his entire body would ache and his limbs would not be easily controlled.

Even now he could see his hands shaking, the slightest twitch of his fingers as they vibrated with the force of his own heartbeat.

He had not had many visitors here. And that was a big difference between the SGC and Atlantis. At the SGC he would have visitors, well-wishers, an abundance of flowers and touching gestures. Here he was a stranger, an interloper.

Thus it surprised him when he saw the giant man with dreadlocks standing in the doorway to the infirmary. He merely stood there, eyes watching with an animal intensity.

Daniel stared back, not taking his eyes from the man. Something he once heard about staring down a tiger flitted through his brain.

The man walked in and approached his bed.

“Um, hello,” Daniel said.

The man stood at the foot of his bed, silently regarding him. Then he turned and left.

Daniel stared where the man had been and the door where he left.

Definitely not like the SGC.

*****

The infirmary food was strange, to say the least.

Daniel wasn't sure about the medical soundness of this plan.

His meal consisted of several pieces of a lightly grilled red fish, a giant pile of oddly colored highly salted french fries, two servings of jello (blue flavored), and a fruit cup. One of the nurses had mentioned it as the 'medicinal french fries' diet but hadn't elaborated.

Daniel left most of it on the plate, instead focusing on those foods he trusted. The jello was easiest to eat, all he had to do was wrangle it to his mouth, but the fruit cup was less than cooperative.

“Ow...” he whined. Chewing hurt.

_You'll recover faster if you eat the fries._

Daniel looked around for the source of that thought. He thought he could smell the culprit. Or maybe it was this red fish on his plate, it did have a distinct funk to it.

“Yes, Mother,” Daniel muttered.

Rodney rose up from the blind spot at the foot of his bed, hauling himself up to two legs. Giant blue eyes blinked in a three note motion, lid-lid-membrane. Daniel could see fractured and heat-deformed scales on his snout where the bridge of his nose might once have been. There was a sheen to the Deep One that bespoke of time recently spent in the water.

_How are you?_

“Well, it hurts to eat this fruit cup,” Daniel admitted.

_Don't eat the fruit cup then._

“Thank you, Groucho,” Daniel drawled before putting the fruit cup and its torturous spork down.

“Listen, I appreciate the visits but...”

Rodney drew himself up to something near his full height and hissed in accomplishment. _Not to worry, I've already reconfigured the shields to keep the Asgard out. And the Daedalus is out fetching a gate from the old Gate Bridge, they should be back tomorrow. I hear they'll want to be sending you back to Earth as soon as that's ready._

“Yeah, I guess I need some major recovery and Landry prefers I do that there instead of here, so...”

_Well, it's been... unique..._

“Yes, yes it has,” Daniel admitted. “It sure has.” It had not been what he'd expected at all.

_So... I heard what the Asgard called you. You're not my Fata Monere. You're Monere Attrect at best._

“What?” Daniel asked.

_I've been going through the database. It wasn't easy, I had to stick to the nontranslated portions. Whoever did the translation was an idiot. Those morons translated the words as 'apprentice' and 'concubine' for some reason._

“Concubine.”

_I know, right? Sure the literal translation is 'touched by the monster' but really._

“Touched in the head, more like it,” Daniel said.

_Exactly. Whoever did the translating needed to get laid. But then they might breed and we have enough morons already._

“So... Monere Attrect...”

_Yeah, most everyone here is Monere Attrect. They can hear me. That's supposed to be hard to do for some reason? Maybe the Ancients were just elitist assholes who didn't want to share, oh wait!_

Daniel snorted then grimaced from the pain. “Ow.”

_I don't even think I have a Fata Monere, someone who speaks for me. I like speaking for me. Why can't I just be the one speaking for me anyway?_

“Maybe because you cause blinding headaches in the uninitiated?”

Rodney huffed, flaring his gill plates. _That can't be it._

“Of course not,” Daniel mumbled. Even with the condescending huff and the dismissive flare of gill plates he could still tell Rodney held a lot of guilt about that little problem. It probably explained why Rodney's Song felt more focused, more targeted. And he had definitely been here too long if he could sense the difference between a focused and unfocused Song.

Rodney clapped his hands on the bed frame and gave a quick snarl, oddly nonthreatening. _Well, I'm sure we'll have you out of here bright and early tomorrow morning. My team can have the new gate installed as soon as it's here._

“About that...” Daniel started.

Rodney's dorsal spines raised then lowered as the bead creaked under the weight of his forepaws.

“How would you feel about coming back to Earth with me?”

Rodney's dorsal spines shot up and he murred in a way that reminded Daniel vividly of McKay's strange grovelling. _What? No! I can't! I can't go back there looking like this, people will see!_

“That's the beauty of it,” Daniel said. “The SGC has two months worth of reports on your current condition. They know.”

_There's a difference between knowing and seeing! They'll want to experiment on me, keep me from returning here, throw me in the ocean so they can watch me get twisted by Mother's Song! I don't want to be sacrificed to Great Cthulhu!_

“You're not going to be sacrificed to Great Cthulhu,” Daniel promised.

_You don't know that! Who knows what'll happen to me after the SGC decides I'm too much trouble and has me deported to the Atlantic. I can't be kept alive, I know too much! What if I teach the Deep Ones Wraith tech, that's an organic technology, it's all grown, there's no reason why the Deep Ones couldn't have hyperdrives in five years! And I'd be the cause! There's no way I can be left alive!_

“It's not permanent,” Daniel said, loudly and slowly to try and break through the Deep One's panic. And was this panic a personality trait, a human remnant, or were all Deep Ones like this? Could there be any way to tell? “I've found some things on Earth that might interest you and was wondering if you wanted to come with.”

Rodney's panic turned as he fell to the floor and stayed there, crouching.

“I found a few spells,” Daniel began. Or tried to.

_Don't call them spells._

Daniel sighed. “They're formulae to allow a sufficiently powerful mind to alter reality and perceptions thereof. What would you call them?”

Rodney murred, though this one sounded like it was his principles being trod on.

“Anyway, I found a few spells since Delta Green opened their archives on your kind and--”

_Delta Green did what? When?!_

Daniel sighed. “Ow...” He was in too much pain for this. “When Colonel Caldwell got back last run they held him for interrogation. Apparently the Delta Green cell stationed on Atlantis had been sent back with reams of data on your Change and orders not to interfere. On top of that Caldwell admitted to being able to hear your Song and he was declared your 'thrall' for it. Jack seized all the data and used it to leverage an exchange. The NID would turn over all of Delta Green's files on Deep Ones and the SGC would share their information on you. There's 80 years of information there, not counting the stuff lost when their head researcher went insane and tried to burn everything.”

Rodney merely gaped in shock.

“Among their archives was an old manuscript, half-burned,” Daniel continued. “Most of it is ramblings of a sea captain about island nations under thrall of your kind but there are some sections that definitely look like spells.”

_They're not spells._

“Oh?” Daniel challenged. “There's one where a sorcerer sings a Song to bring everyone within hearing under her sway, collecting them together, linking them to her, and making them believe that she's all they desire.”

_Wait, like Mother's Song?_

“And another, a curse where the sorcerer calls upon the seas to bubble forth from within a victims' lungs, drowning him.”

_I think I've heard of that one._

“And of course, where a sorcerer bids the seas to rise in a rogue wave capable of capsizing a yacht.”

_The Great Wave..._

Daniel looked down at Rodney where he crouched on the floor. He could see the careful interest there.

“And there's one, though the text is missing, that allows someone like you to don a human likeness, allowing them to pass among human society unchallenged. I don't know what it's called or how to pull it off but I might know where to look.”

Rodney pushed himself to sitting up. _I know someone... at least... I think he's still at Miskatonic University... Professor Randall might know... but the amount of concentration involved would be enormous... I wonder what this formulae does..._

Daniel sat back, grinning in triumph. Except the action sent a spike of pain through his face and spine. “Ow.”

_And I won't be detained or kept or studied against my will? I'll be allowed to return?_

“I see no reason why not.”

_I..._ Rodney hissed, short and chaotic bursts that Daniel recognized as near-hysterical laughter. _I guess I do need a Fata Monere. I'll need someone to speak for me... I'll need a Voice._

*****

Daniel sat in a wheelchair, the doctors not trusting his legs enough for him to walk through the gate. Around him stood three marines who were finishing their tour, a doctor who was taking some leave time, and a botanist who failed a psyche eval after being nearly eaten by a six foot tall carnivorous plant.

McKay was nowhere to be seen.

Dr. Zelenka finished the final testing of the gate, including a few test dials. One hadn't connected, leaving them all with a sinking feeling as to why.

Chuck informed him the settlement there was about fifteen miles from the gate. Surely they were outside the blast radius.

Zelenka declared the gate safe for use.

“Dial Earth,” Mr. Woolsey said.

Chevrons engaged, so much faster than Daniel was used to, the keys glowing white as they were touched.

The wormhole engaged, energy whooshing out before collapsing into a stable event horizon.

“Wait!”

Daniel craned his head to look behind him. “Colonel Sheppard?” he asked. And there was Rodney right behind him. Wait, why was the colonel carrying bags?

Mr. Woolsey intercepted the pair of them. “Are you sure about this, Dr. McKay?” he asked.

Daniel could tell by the sounds that Rodney was Singing but it wasn't directed at him.

“That is a valid point,” Woolsey agreed. “And you're talking Colonel Sheppard with you.”

“Major Lorne's in charge until I get back,” Sheppard said.

“You realize Delta Green may not allow you to come back,” Woolsey warned.

“They may not have a choice,” Sheppard said, grinning. “I hear Zelenka might be planning something in case they don't. Can you 'phase transition' the universe?”

Woolsey grimaced. “I did not hear that.”

“Right.”

Rodney hopped down the steps to the gate platform, Sheppard following him.

“So you're Rodney's Fata Monere,” Daniel said.

Sheppard shrugged. “That's what Teyla says,” he allowed.

Daniel snorted then winced. Even not-quite-laughing hurt.

“Sending IDC,” Chuck said. “Beginning databurst. Receiving radio signal.”

“Put it on,” Woolsey ordered.

“Mr. Woolsey, good to hear from you.” Daniel recognized the voice of General Landry. “Colonel Caldwell tells me you had a bit of a dust-up with some rogue Asgard.”

“Yes, sir,” Woolsay said. “The report should be coming through now.”

“I'll have to read it later,” Landry said. “I take it you'll be sending Dr. Jackson back for recovery?”

“And a few others,” Woolsey said. “Including someone interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Dr. Jackson invited Dr. McKay to check out Delta Green's archives. Something about a 'formulae'.”

Suddenly Landry's voice grew serious. “I'll begin preparations.”

“Dr. McKay's bringing a translator with him so I'm sure there's little you need to worry about,” Woolsey said. “He's not dangerous, General. I'd be more worried about what Delta Green will do, agreement or no agreement.”

“Noted.” Landry did not sound pleased.

Daniel noticed Rodney's pupils wide as he Sang, heard Sheppard snicker and give a whispered 'do it' in response. Daniel had a bad feeling about this.

“Send them through.”

*****

Something about the SGC just smelled right.

Maybe it was the lack of salt-air stench. Maybe it was the burnt dust and recycled air smell of the supercomputer that emulated their DHD. Maybe it was the steel and tungsten smell that never went away after a hundred firefights in the gateroom.

Whatever it was, Daniel always thought of that smell as 'home'.

He was wheeled down the ramp away from the gate as the last few travelers came through.

He looked up just in time to see large black claws clang down onto the ramp through the wormhole, to see the monstrous shape pulled through, sliding like a crocodile through water as it slithered out of the event horizon. It raised itself up to its full height and shrieked, long and loud, before falling back to all fours, tail lashing and gill plates rustling.

And John Sheppard merely stood there, duffel slung over one shoulder. “He says 'hi' by the way,” Sheppard drawled.

Daniel hid his eyes behind one hand. That had not been a 'hi' or a 'hello' or anything so benign.

This was going to be a long month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More mangled Latin.
> 
> Attrect, a shortening of Latin's 'attrectare', means to touch or to lay on hands. In Latin it's a bad touch unless a priest does it.
> 
> Fata, from 'fata deorum' the words of the gods. Here it means 'voice of'.


	6. An Unexpected Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They knew. They were warned. They had every shred of evidence. But did they believe?

The road to Delta Green's archive was long, dull, and filled with briefings.

Since there was little the infirmary could actually do, Daniel was not spared the mission debrief. Especially not with Dr. McKay there.

And that had been a chore, convincing General Landry that yes this was indeed Dr. McKay, no Daniel wasn't being mind controlled, no Dr. McKay was no more a security risk than normal, and yes Colonel Sheppard was here for a reason.

It was five hours in and during his second 'nutritional replacement shake' that he realized just how much he missed the medicinal french fries.

_Told ya._

Daniel glanced down the table at Rodney, hearing the almost whispered huff.

_I told you, eat the french fries. So much tastier than that shit._

Daniel rolled his eyes.

“Ahem.”

Daniel looked up at the head of the table. General Landry had noticed? But how...

Right. He remembered Dr. McKay's vocalizations had been much louder before he heard the Song. That 'whispered' huff probably echoed. “Sorry,” Daniel said.

The briefing continued.

Every word the Asgard had said was analyzed, every movement he and Rodney had made were reviewed and second-guessed. Could they have turned the machine off in time (not without more information), could they have convinced the Asgard to surrender (hell no), could they have used this machine to defeat the Wraith safely (bwahaha, what?), did anything of the facility survive (he hoped not), and of course...

“Dr. Jackson, what is your tactical appraisal of Dr. McKay's performance during the incident?”

_What?! What is he insinuating! How dare he..._

“Rodney, shut up,” Daniel said.

_But you heard what he just said! They're thinking of weaponizing me I just know it! Well I am not going to be trapped here like some sort of living ZAT for you to take out when needed!_

“Rodney!” Daniel shouted.

Rodney growled, dorsal fin raised in challenge.

“What... just happened?” General Landry asked. “Colonel Sheppard, what's going on?”

“Well, you see, General,” Sheppard began. “Just because I'm here as a translator doesn't mean McKay doesn't understand you completely. The Change took out his ability to **speak** English. It did nothing to his ability to understand it.”

General Landry looked confused.

“I think you insulted him,” Daniel said with a drawl. “And I think he considers his tactical performance to be perfectly acceptable, thank you very much.”

Rodney huffed in agreement.

Landry rubbed his temples and took a breath. “Understood,” he said. “Allow me to rephrase the question, then. How would the both of you rate your performances in this incident?”

*****

The briefing finally ended, or more likely was put on recess. Daniel wheeled out of the room toward the infirmary when he heard a familiar voice.

“Daniel! Glad to see you're back, we were all worried about you.”

Rodney jumped behind Sheppard with a bleat and an 'eep' as Sam came down the corridor and leaned down to give Daniel a hug, squeezing an 'ow' out of him.

“Heard you had a run in with some rogue Asgard,” Sam said. Then she looked up. “Oh, hello Colonel. What... is that behind you?”

Daniel grinned like a madman. “You owe me ten bucks,” he said.

Sam looked at Daniel, puzzled. Then realization crossed her features. “No way...”

“Pay up, Colonel,” Daniel insisted.

_Keep her busy so we can leave, I don't want her to shoot me._

Sheppard cleared his throat. “Rodney says we should go before Colonel Carter--”

“I heard him,” Daniel drawled.

“No fucking way,” Sam said.

“It **is** an Earth thing, he's a Lovecraftian monster, he always has been, he was born with the potential,” Daniel said. “You said his transformation had to have been caused by the ascension machine. Pay up.”

“To be fair, McKay, you didn't get real bad until after that machine,” Sheppard said.

“Thank you, Sheppard,” Sam said, continuing to ignore Daniel's gloating.

_You're not helping._

“So what does he look like now?” Sam asked. She kept moving like she was trying to see what was hiding behind Sheppard. She could see something large and blue-greenish holding him in place with black-clawed hands. It had that characteristic smell McKay'd had right before she left. “When I left he was butt-ugly.”

_What? I wasn't that bad, was I?_

“You were pretty bad,” Sheppard admitted.

_Yeah, well, we can't all have sentient hair._

“You mean 'we can't all have hair',” Sheppard countered.

Rodney hissed his displeasure. The sound took Sam by surprise, causing her to take a step back, eyes wide. “The hell?” she asked.

Sheppard stepped out from in front of Rodney, ignoring his indignant snarl and too many teeth snapping near his ear.

“Wow,” Sam said. “That's... impressive...”

Rodney had lost nearly all of his humanity. Nothing of it remained in his face, his head looked like the head of a fish with the large gill plates and the wide blue eyes that blinked with a distinct three note beat. He still had arms and legs, he even had hands, though his legs had folded into something almost digitigrade. His underbelly was smooth white, fading into blue-green scales along his sides, back, and shoulders. He made a strange sound almost like a long low 'murr'.

“You have a tail,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “And no pants.”

Rodney chirped and leaned forward, hissing softly. He easily fell to all fours.

“So... how much is left up here?” Sam asked, pointing to her head.

“All of it,” Sheppard said. “He can't talk but he does this telepathic thing. I hear the initial headache is hell.”

“Oh, it was intense,” Daniel agreed. “Made me hallucinate the hunting horror.”

“Again?” Sam demanded, rolling her eyes. “How long has it been there? Years? Stop worrying about it.”

“What's a hunting horror?” Sheppard asked.

Rodney shrugged.

Daniel described a giant black serpent edged in gold, its mouth too wide with too many teeth, a single burning three-lobed eye, twisting and curling in midair as it held itself aloft with one vast leathery wing.

Sam sighed. “Let's get you back to the infirmary,” she said, dragging Daniel off in his wheelchair.

As they turned the corridor Rodney huffed in relief. _I thought she was gonna shoot me._

“There's always later,” Sheppard said with a shrug.

Rodney murred, paused, then snarled even as Sheppard sauntered off.

*****

The gentle wum-wum-wum of the CT machine woke Daniel from his fitful sleep. He never slept well in infirmaries and the barely hushed bustle in this one was not helping. He felt well enough to chance his feet, getting out of bed to see.

“Huh,” he mused aloud.

How had they gotten Dr. McKay in the machine? And how was he sleeping through all the racket?

Daniel looked around the observation room and slowly made his way over to a pair of familiar faces. Sam looked a mixture of concerned and intrigued, Sheppard looked oddly amused. “How did they...” Daniel began, gesturing to the machine.

“He's still McKay,” Sam mused, as though she hadn't believed it earlier.

“Food,” Sheppard said. “A bar of chocolate, two cups of coffee, and a blue jello. Then he went and fell asleep. Medical's taking as many scans as they can before he wakes up.”

Daniel couldn't help the snort. “Ow.”

“Don't hurt yourself,” Sam said, almost absently.

“They find anything interesting?” Daniel asked.

“The whole lot's interesting,” Sheppard said. “I mean, think about it. This used to be a human being, or at least he passed as one. Now look at him. He has gills, scales, that funny mouth-smelling organ that snakes have, he can think his thoughts into people's heads, and it wasn't caused by an alien machine.”

“He got through NID security into Area 51,” Sam said. “Delta Green has a cell permanently stationed in Area 51 for this purpose and they didn't find him. It makes me wonder what else is hiding in the SGC. How many hybrids are there in the Stargate Program? What other types of entities should we be looking out for? Should we even be looking?”

“Maybe we should be seeking out hybrids for the Program,” Sheppard mused. “Even before the gills there were rumors of McKay smashing freediving records when no one was looking. He's taken a stunner to the face and it just bounces off those scales. And have you heard that purr?”

Sam and Daniel both looked at Sheppard like he'd gone mad.

“What?” Sheppard asked.

“There's got to be a way to tell a hybrid from a human,” Sam mused. “Before the transformation starts. If we could get one here we might be able to find something...”

Daniel went quiet as he realized what she was talking about. **Who** she was talking about. “You mean Mrs. Miller, don't you?”

“Wait, McKay's sister?” Sheppard asked.

Sam nodded.

In the CT machine Rodney stretched, growled, shook his spines, and rolled over, causing a volley of swearing from the technicians.

“I'm not sure if that's a bad idea or the best idea,” Sheppard said.

“Best,” Daniel said. “We'll get to see natural interaction between a hybrid and a Deep One.”

Sam nodded. “I'll talk to her.”

Sheppard wasn't so sure.

 


	7. A Terrifying Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity is a cruel trait. He should never have looked. Or maybe he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter begins one of the more emotional arcs of the story, research into the raid at Innsmouth and the family Rodney never knew.

Sheppard and Rodney leaned over stacks of papers and pages, some photocopies, some carefully encased in protective plastic. A single guard stood near the door, evidently told to be wary about the Deep One and its thrall while they perused Delta Green's haphazardly cataloged archives.

_The Ancients have a better system than this._

“I didn't think they had much of a functional system,” Sheppard said.

_Exactly. 'Not much of one' is one at all. Did they seriously just dump all this stuff in a box and hand it over? Was none of it ever sorted? Look! The bottom of this box here, it's not even pages anymore. It's just charcoal fragments and dust. Are they trying to only give out shit information?_

John gave Rodney a look.

_Yeah, you're right. That's exactly what they're doing._

He ignored Rodney's continued whining and huffing and hissing while he flipped through the plastic encased pages of the Ponape Scripture, as it was so called. There were entire sections missing, a few pages reduced to soot, and a multitude of old saltwater stains. Surely the Marsh family had kept their so-called 'holy scripture' safer than this.

Sheppard watched Rodney as he roughly handled papers, flipped harshly through folders, and carelessly tossed aside manuscripts.

Okay, maybe the Marsh family wouldn't have been more careful than this, not if this was their so-called scion.

Rodney paused in the middle of a file, one hand caressing the pages. _I never knew what they looked like._

Sheppard looked over Rodney's shoulder, found him looking at old photographs. They must have been seized during the raid; they looked like normal old family photos with one glaring exception. Everyone in them had the Innsmouth Look to varying degrees.

_I don't know any of these people but..._

“But they're family,” Sheppard said.

_Exactly! I feel like I should know them but I never did. It was... taken from me..._

Rodney began to growl, a low rumble that began curling his scaly hands into a predator's claws. Sheppard quickly took the file folder and its precious photographs from Rodney's grasp.

“Hey,” John whispered. “Hey, it's okay.”

Rodney snarled, spines raised in fury. _It is **NOT** okay! They took **everything** from us! And why?! We weren't doing anything wrong! We were just trying to live our lives! We just wanted to be... to be... left alone..._

Rodney let loose a shriek that caused the door to rattle and their guard to draw his weapon before falling to all fours. He curled up around himself, hiding behind his own tail. The shriek died quickly to short hisses.

It took Sheppard a moment to realize... Rodney was crying. He knelt down next to the Deep One and laid a hand across his scaly back.

Rodney growled but didn't resist as human hands gently stroked his scales, down his spines, traced the faint pigment patterns on his side. He didn't resist as those hands tucked his head under a human chin and held him there.

He closed his eyes and slowly the hissing faded, subsiding underneath a low reluctant purr.

*****

“I'm sure you know why you're here, Colonel,” Landry drawled.

Colonel Sheppard sat in General Landry's office, feeling all too much like a child facing down the principal. “I assume it has something to do with Dr. McKay,” he said.

“That it does.” Landry fixed Sheppard with a glare. “Is he going to be a problem?”

“In what way?” Sheppard asked.

“I was informed by a member base security that Dr. McKay was... very nearly violent while the both of you were searching Delta Green's archives. Is that what happened?”

“Well, sir, I wouldn't have put it that way.”

“And how would you have 'put it', Colonel?” Landry demanded.

Sheppard fixed Landry with a long, hard look. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

Landry nodded.

“Dr. McKay spent several hours today going through records of his own family's murder, his hometown's destruction, and records of unwilling experimentation done on the survivors,” Sheppard said, voice carefully neutral. “All while the group that perpetrated that, that **genocide** watches his every movement. On and off Atlantis. Yes, General, I know about Woolsey's connection to Delta Green. All things considered I found McKay's reaction entirely understandable.”

“It wasn't a genocide,” Landry said.

“It was the definition of,” Sheppard snapped. “The state department rolled in and killed everyone because they weren't human!”

“I'm sure they had their reasons,” Landry said, though the excuse sounded flimsy even to his ears.

“They had a madman's promise of inhuman monsters. They put the survivors in a concentration camp! What would you call it?”

Landry rubbed his eyes. He wasn't going to argue this now. “Where is Dr. McKay?” he demanded.

“Infirmary,” Sheppard said. “I left him with Dr. Jackson.”

“Dr. Jackson is in no condition right now to deal with this!”

“Dr. Jackson is the only other person on this entire base who can hear him!”

Landry pinched the bridge of his nose.

As if waiting for a cue, or perhaps for a lull in the shouting, a knock sounded on Landry's door.

“Come in!” Landry snapped.

An enlisted man popped his head in. “Sorry to disturb you, sirs, but there's a situation down in the infirmary. Colonel Sheppard's presence has been requested.”

Landry glared at Sheppard before dismissing the messenger. They both headed out toward the infirmary.

The sight that greeted them there was... strange.

Dr. McKay crouched on Daniel's bed, tail slowly waving behind him. Daniel was sitting up, supported on pillows and held upright by clawed hands. Rodney had his eyes closed and was slowly rubbing his snout against Daniel's cheek, first one then the other as though the human had a snout to nuzzle. Daniel's eyes were closed and he was making the most peculiar sounds as his hands roamed down smooth skin and rough scales, looking for something to grab onto.

Sheppard realized through Rodney's deafening purr just what those sounds were.

Oh.

The slow, sensual rubbing of snouts continued as did the interested gasps and the keening whine.

“Ahem,” Sheppard said. He didn't even bother pretending to clear his throat, he just said the word.

“What exactly is Dr. McKay doing to Dr. Jackson?” Landry demanded in a hissed whisper, taking care to emphasize titles.

“I think I know and I'm not sure I want to,” Sheppard said.

Daniel's hands found purchase and he arched up into the Deep One's nuzzling. Rodney's purr took on a possessive growl.

“Okay, that's enough!” Sheppard shouted.

Rodney's eyes snapped open and he squealed, somehow jumping and falling off the side of the bed.

_Ow._

“Serves you right,” Sheppard drawled.

Daniel came back to himself, looking dazed. “Wow... You were right, Rodney, that was intense.”

_I warned you._

“We have **got** to do that again!”

Rodney peered up over the edge of the bed, first at the excitedly manic expression of Daniel then at the confused face of General Landry and the amused yet uncomfortable expression of John Sheppard, finally at the multitude of nurses who were pretending very hard that they weren't watching. _You really wanna make plans in front of them?_

Daniel looked at their audience. Meh, he'd done worse. Instead his expression gained a decidedly wicked caste. “Maybe when I get out of this infirmary...”

Rodney made an 'eep' noise before ducking out of sight.

“Your scientist just tried to seduce my scientist,” Sheppard accused, pointing at Landry. He stalked off before Landry could give an answer.

Landry stood in the doorway before leaving.

Daniel merely relaxed on the infirmary bed, arms behind his head, wicked grin on his face.

Rodney poked his head up from under the bed. _Are they gone?_

“Sheppard and Landry left,” Daniel said.

Rodney hopped back up on the bed and laid down. He grabbed one of Daniel's hands and put it on his side, demanding contact.

“That bad, hmm?” Daniel pet the Deep One, slowly tracing his hands down the patterned scales.

Rodney huffed. _I'd heard what they did... Heard the stories. Dad used to tell them when he drank enough... But to actually_ _ **see**_ _the files..._

“I'm sorry...” Daniel still felt helpless. Nothing he could say would make this better. And his last suggestion, getting a good nuzzle on, was much more intense than he'd been prepared for.

_There's nothing in there I want to see..._

_I want to go home..._


	8. A Baited Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding the hybrid was easy, fish toy with bait all the time. The key was getting her to bite.

Jeannie flopped onto her couch with a sigh. She wanted a beer but it was only 11am.

It had been a long summer.

First there was the emergency with Meredith at the end of May. That in and of itself was a roller coaster ride from Hell and then he'd dropped the biggest bombshell of all. So much of their family history, life, everything all rolled up into one little sentence.

It explained so much. Dad's suicide, Mom's insanity, Dad's weird friends who sometimes crashed in their basement when she was a little girl. Ugh, she still remembered the fishy stench from those men rising up through the floorboards even as she hid out in Meredith's room to get away from their skin-crawling creepiness.

Jeannie could have kicked herself so many times as she looked back at her life and saw how being a hybrid had altered her world, colored her life, changed her family.

That was the crux of it, wasn't it. She wasn't even human. No more so than Meredith, but at least she looked human. She still looked human, might always look human, though that wasn't a given anymore. What if her own Change was merely late? What would she do if suddenly she woke up with webbed hands and shining scales?

She tried to shake off the thought. That beer was looking more and more tempting despite her pledge to cut down.

And what about Kaleb? What if he turned out like Mom? Could she live with herself if she put him in a mental institution simply by existing?

She was already off the couch toward the fridge when she heard the knock on the door.

A welcome distraction.

“Colonel Carter?”

Sam stood on the doorstep, an easy smile on her face, looking so much like that first day they'd met.

“Mrs. Miller,” Sam greeted.

“Come in, come in,” Jeannie said, holding the door open.

Sam ducked in an endearing way and walked in. “Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Kaleb took Madison to the community pool. I was just about to make some tea. Would you like some?” Jeannie ignored the little voice that demanded something stronger than mere tea.

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Sam said. She followed Jeannie into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table. “So, how are things?”

“They could be better,” Jeannie admitted. “Do you know about Meredith's... um...”

“I know he's a Deep One,” Sam said. “The SGC was given all relevant information on your family's nonhuman heritage.”

Jeannie winced as she filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil.

“A member of my team once shed his mortal form and evolved into an energy state,” Sam said, trying to be supportive. “He returned to human form a few years later. Trust me, Mrs. Miller, when I say I've seen weirder.”

“But have you ever **been** weirder?” Jeannie asked, her voice held carefully neutral.

“I once blew up a star,” Sam said.

“Oh.” Jeannie's self-righteousness deflated. “That's... impressive...”

“It was,” Sam agreed.

Jeannie snorted. It turned to odd giggles as she sat down across from Sam at the kitchen table, her head falling into her arms.

Sam recognized a moment of mental fragility when she saw one. Daniel had enough of them that she knew what to do. She got up and looked around the kitchen, checking cabinets until she found mugs, a plate, spoons, and tea bags. “Would you like cream or sugar?” she asked, opening the fridge. She scowled at what she found. “Do you have cream?”

“We're vegan,” Jeannie said, her voice muffled by her arms.

Sam made a face into the fridge before taking out the carton of almond milk. She found a sugar bowl, tasted it to make sure it was real sugar. By then the kettle was beginning to whistle. “What kind of tea would you like?” she asked.

Jeannie made a 'you don't have to do that' noise but didn't get up.

Sam poured two mugs of boiling water, putting a bag of black tea into each. She placed a mug in front of Jeannie before sitting down with her own. She chanced a pour of this strange almond milk. It claimed to be vanilla flavored.

Jeannie sat up and blinked like the light was painful. “You didn't have to do that,” she said, looking down at her waiting mug of tea.

Sam dunked her teabag a few more times before squeezing it and placing it on the plate. “It's no big deal,” she assured. She tried her tea. It was not vanilla flavored.

“You know,” Jeannie said, sounding oddly resigned.

“That's no big deal either. You met Teyla and Ronon, they're not even from Earth. Teal'c isn't either, he's not even genetically human. I've met alternate mes, traveled through time, been cloned, been a robot, I blew up a star and I'm proud of it. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Jeannie fixed her own tea, two sugars, and took a sip.

“How's Kaleb handling it?”

Jeannie shrugged. “I can't tell anymore,” she admitted. “We'd been talking about getting pregnant again and then that shut down. We'd talked about adding fish into our diets and obviously that stopped. He's been taking Madison to the community pool almost every day since we got back from Arkham. Sometimes I'll catch him staring at a wall like he's thinking but he won't tell me what about; he used to tell me.”

Sam reached a hand across the table and took Jeannie's.

The door opened. “Mommy!”

Sam pulled away, taking a sip of her tea to cover the motion as Madison bounded in, hair still wet and slightly green from pool chlorine.

“Mommy, the swimming teacher said I'm the best she ever saw!” Madison declared. “Daddy bought me gummy worms!” She thrust out the smallish package. “Want one?”

Sam hid her smile behind her mug of tea as Kaleb walked in. She nodded at the man as he noticed her.

“Just one,” Jeannie said, reaching into the bag. She pulled out a blue and yellow one before Madison bounded off again. “Don't eat them all at once!”

“Gummy **worms** ,” Sam said, clearly appreciating the pun.

“It's not Swedish Fish,” Kaleb drawled.

Sam groaned, grinning at him.

“'Best she ever saw',” Jeannie asked, serious.

Kaleb shrugged. “Because the six year old set is normally **so** skilled. The swim teacher was impressed that she knew how to hold her breath.”

Jeannie watched with growing tension.

“I'll leave you two to discuss... things,” Kaleb said before taking his leave.

“He seems to be taking it well,” Sam said.

Jeannie gave Sam an incredulous look. “She's six,” Jeannie hissed. “How am I supposed to make her appreciate the gravity of the situation if Kaleb keeps encouraging this?!”

“You have that McKay thing,” Sam realized. “You jump to the worst case scenario. May I say, as an outside observer, that Kaleb seems less worried about this than you are?”

Jeannie fixed Sam with a vitriolic stare.

“Why are you even here?” Jeannie demanded.

“Your brother's in town,” Sam said. “Or at least in Colorado.”

“What?!”

“He's doing research in some archives we recently acquired,” Sam explained, taking a nonchalant sip of tea. “He's completely Changed. Took to the water not long after your last visit.”

Jeannie's eyes darted everywhere throughout the kitchen, looking for something to focus on. They went from her mug of tea to the window to a bird outside to the kitchen sink then her own fingertips nervously drumming against the table. This was manipulation, she knew it. She'd used it mercilessly to get Meredith to do what she wanted. Of course it didn't always work... “How is he?” she asked.

“Fishy,” Sam admitted. “Colonel Sheppard came along with to act as translator. Rodney can't talk anymore.”

Jeannie winced. “He can't be taking that well.”

“I dunno, he has a sort of telepathic connection with certain people,” Sam allowed. “Sheppard, for one. I've seen evidence for Dr. Jackson as well. And most of, ah, his coworkers.”

Jeannie nodded.

“He hasn't tried to contact me yet,” Sam admitted. “I hear the headache's terrible. Colonel Caldwell described it as a bad tension headache, Dr. Jackson went delirious from the pain in less than 30 seconds.”

“I heard him speak in my mind before,” Jeannie whispered. “It didn't hurt.”

“I'm not surprised,” Sam said. “Nearly everyone he contacted before he took to the water reports the same thing.”

“Is he... Is he okay?”

Sam gave a predatory grin. “Why don't you come down and see for yourself? He'll only be here a few weeks...”

*****

In two years she had never gone through the front door.

Cheyenne Mountain was unassuming, well, as unassuming as NORAD could be. But there was more below NORAD, deep below the mountain in the crust of the planet.

Jeannie popped her ears as the elevator descended. Not for the first time she wondered about the nervous-looking man in the corner of the elevator, weapon visible in its holster. “What's with the guard?” she asked. “Is it because I'm a civilian?”

“Hmm?” Sam looked over at the private in the corner. She glared him into standing at attention. “No, there's other... reasons...”

Jeannie stared at the man, wondering, until it hit her. If the SGC knew then... “Oh...”

“I'm sorry,” Sam said. “With the IOA so involved with Atlantis it was only a matter of time before the NID and Delta Green were--”

Jeannie turned shocked eyes on Sam. “Wait, Delta Green is real?” she demanded.

“You've heard of them?” Sam asked.

Jeannie nodded. “I thought Dad's stories were... I thought he was making it all up! You're telling me they're real?!”

“They are,” Sam admitted. “In exchange for information they're maintaining a presence in the SGC for the time being.”

Jeannie took a step away from the private in the corner, watching him warily.

“I promise, you're not in any danger here, Mrs. Miller,” Sam assured.

Jeannie wasn't so sure.

After an eternity the elevator opened. The private saluted as they left then took point, following them. His presence sent a shudder down Jeannie's spine. “Is he gonna be following me all the time I'm here?” she whispered.

“It's just a precaution,” Sam said dismissively. “I'm sure you understand.”

“No, actually I don't,” Jeannie said, anger clouding her voice. “This isn't my first time here, there's never been a problem before, and now suddenly I need a guard following me like I'm some sort of threat? What, is it because of what I am?”

Sam visibly winced.

“It is, isn't it,” Jeannie snapped. “Just because I'm, I'm a hybrid you think I won't notice? That suddenly I can't be trusted? Or maybe, I don't know, maybe someone thinks I have some creepy Deep One motive when the only reason I'm here is because you told me Meredith's here!”

“I do apologize,” Sam said. “But it's not my call.”

“Am I even allowed to leave?” Jeannie demanded.

Sam hesitated.

Jeannie shook her head against the onslaught of possibilities, few of them good. “I should never have agreed to work with you,” she said coldly. “No matter what Meredith said or showed me or what. I should have stayed out of it.”

“Mrs. Miller, I'm--”

“Don't you **dare** say you're sorry when you don't mean it!” Jeannie took a deep breath and clenched her fists. She was all too aware of the guard behind her and the weapon he carried. It wasn't a stunner. “What happens now?”

“You'll be asked to submit to a noninvasive medical exam, which we'll compare to the scans we acquired during your encounter with the nanites. Using that as a baseline we hope to see if there have been any changes.”

“Am I allowed to refuse?” Jeannie asked sullenly.

“We'd prefer you not,” Sam said.

Jeannie had the oddest urge to growl, a deep animalistic growl, but when she tried it didn't sound quite right.

“We hope to find a common thread among hybrids such as yourself,” Sam continued. “If we can find one it might be possible to identify hybrids before their Change begins.”

“You want to weaponize us, don't you.”

“Not necessarily,” Sam said. “That may be part of it, I admit. I imagine the Navy would be interested in increasing the number of hybrids among the SEALs. But there's also a safety issue. I'd bet money that a hybrid in Afghanistan would have a horrendous time if they began trying to take to water that isn't even there, it might even kill them. Then consider applications outside of the military. If the rumors from Atlantis are anything to go by, your brother was shattering world freediving records for years before he grew his gills.”

“Yeah, I'm sure there's a plethora of freediving uses,” Jeannie grumbled.

“Climate research, treasure hunting, commercial fishing, sustainable farming,” Sam said, naming a few off the top of her head. “The potential gains to marine biology alone are endless. Do you have any idea how little we know about nurse sharks? What we could learn if a scientist were capable of swimming along with them, monitoring breeding and feeding habits, estimating numbers?”

Jeannie huffed, hissing through her teeth. “Where is Meredith?” she demanded.

Sam paused. “I... was hoping you could tell me...”

“Wait, you're studying me even now,” Jeannie realized. “Is he even here?”

“Whoa, he's here, I promise he's here, it's just...” Sam took a breath. “I told you he's gone full telepathic, that he can't speak at all. Colonel Sheppard's here to act as a translator so he doesn't give us all blinding headaches while trying to invade our thoughts.”

“I bet that's going over well.” Jeannie said, deadpanned.

“Oh it's been weird,” Sam allowed. “I was just wondering if you could... sense him back.”

Jeannie glared at Sam.

Sam backed off.

Jeannie sighed. She knew she was going to regret this. “I'll try.” She closed her eyes and tried to listen.

She could hear the air conditioning gently whirring in the duct. Her own heartbeat echoed in her ears. She thought she heard footsteps further down the hall. The elevator dinged and opened. She shook her head. “I got nothing,” she admitted. “I wouldn't even know what to look for.”

“Worth a try,” Sam said. She tapped her radio. “Control, do you know where Dr. McKay is? Thanks.” She turned to Jeannie. “He's in the gym if you want to see him now.”

Jeannie snorted. “Now I know you're lying to me.”

“He's under orders to hit the gym pool for an hour every day,” Sam said, gesturing in a direction. “Less than that and he gets really fishy-smelling. More than that and his blood sodium gets low.”

Jeannie followed where Sam pointed. She still didn't believe it.

Even when she saw it she didn't believe it.

The gym held the usual compliment of sweaty men and women lifting freeweights and using various machines. In the back it also had a pool surrounded by a running track. A familiar figure jogged the path.

“Colonel Sheppard?”

Sheppard left the track, jogging over to Jeannie and Sam. “Jeannie, it's good to see you again,” he said.

“I just wish it were under better circumstances,” Jeannie groused.

“Beats last time,” Sheppard said.

An odd splash came from the direction of the pool. Jeannie was too busy to acknowledge it. “They have me trapped here,” she snapped.

Sheppard shrugged. “Same with us,” he admitted. “We're stuck here until Dr. Jackson's back on his feet then we're off to Miskatonic University.”

“Yeah but they won't let me leave!” Jeannie insisted.

Sheppard gave her a deadpanned look.

Jeannie's anger fell flat. “This is different and you know it,” she said. “I'm not military. And they want to do tests on me. Tests! Do you have any idea what that means?”

“Some X-rays, a physical, maybe a full-body CT scan,” Sheppard said. “It's what they did to your brother. He got so bored he fell asleep in the machine.”

“That... does not sound that bad,” she admitted sullenly.

The water sloshed, almost like something large was making sudden turns underwater. She looked over, curious. An odd shape was moving in the water, not quite human. Wait... “Is that Meredith?” she asked.

The shape placed dark hands on the edge of the pool and jumped out of the water, bounding out on all fours. Water sluiced everywhere from shining scales and gills slightly irritated by the chlorinated freshwater. It stretched, lengthening like a panther as it tossed its head, pawed the tile, flicked its tail.

After an eternity it fixed one blue eye on her. _Jeannie?_

“Meredith?” She took a step forward. “You look... like a lizard.”

Wide blue eyes glared at her, a familiar huff falling from its lips. _I do not look like a lizard._

Jeannie grinned. “You do, you totally look like a lizard.”

Rodney rose up to two legs, awkwardly walking toward her with his arms tucked underneath. _I'll show you 'lizard'..._

She had only a moment to realize she'd made a mistake before hands grabbed her, lifted her up, and she was being carried by something that hopped disturbingly fast. And then...

Splash.

Jeannie hit the bottom of the pool, indignant at the fact that her brother had picked her up and thrown her in. Oh, she was gonna get him for this... She swam up and hauled herself up the side of the pool.

A strange open-mouthed hissing came from him in harsh bursts. He was laughing at her.

“This means war, Meredith,” she warned.

 _Good to see you too._ Rodney's laughter lapsed into purring as he hopped up to his sister and laid his head on her shoulder.

She growled.

 


	9. An Unseen Listener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was always underestimated. One would think they'd know better by now but... Any advantage is a welcome one.

Finally.

After a week trapped in the infirmary Daniel was allowed to leave.

He wasn't allowed to stay away but at least he could leave.

He didn't make it far before he was ambushed by a dark, knowing voice.

“There you are, my dear Daniel. I was worried. I heard you were back but you know I don't like that infirmary of yours.”

Daniel grinned before he turned around. “Hello, Vala,” he said.

She smirked before ambushing him with a hug. He had the oddest feeling that she should be purring but he tamped it down.

“How was Atlantis?” she asked.

“Weirder than I expected,” Daniel admitted. “Got kidnapped by rogue Asgard. I got to wear battle armor.”

“Well, there is that,” Vala said.

“I got electrocuted.”

Vala smirked and ruffled his hair. “Stop trying to make me feel sorry for you. Now where's that sea creature you brought back? Nobody's been willing to properly introduce me.”

“Are you sure you want to meet him?” Daniel asked, suddenly serious.

“Of course,” Vala insisted. “I've been following him and his entourage of guards for days. The headache took some effort to ignore but then I heard this voice in my mind and the pain ended. It was quite disturbing.”

Daniel nearly lost his feet from shock. He drew her from the corridor to an unused lab. “You're telling me... you can hear him?”

“Is that what that voice is?”

“Yes!” Daniel gestured, trying to find the words. “How bad was the headache?” he finally asked. “I hear it's different for different people.”

Vala shrugged. “Not bad,” she admitted. “A pressure right on the willpower, which should have clued me in. Then it was gone and I, well, I haven't sought out the creature since. Not unless, do you know whether or not it's capable of mind control? I hear so many conflicting theories.”

“It's never controlled me.”

“What was your headache like, then?”

Daniel blushed. “I, ah, went delirious,” he admitted. “Saw the three-lobed eye again.”

“The same hunting horror, I take it?” Vala asked. She sighed. “You need to let go of the past. You were ascended once but no longer. Even if you could return that doesn't mean you'll fly on the same gold-threaded wing.”

“I can hope,” Daniel said quietly.

Vala smiled fondly. “My dear hopeful Daniel. Come, you said you'd introduce me to your creature.”

They found a commotion outside the archive room. A balding man stood there, growling and motioning in a manner that reminded Daniel of one of his former advisors, the one with the teacup collection. He and Vala waited until the man either noticed them or stormed off, hopefully the latter.

Drat. It was the former.

“Those **creatures** are ruining my system!” he snapped.

Daniel leveled the man with a glare. “If you're telling me there was any organizational system in that mess you're a liar.”

“And you must be some air-headed grad student if you can't comprehend my system,” the man said, glaring back.

“Normally I comprehend madmen,” Daniel drawled. “But only those of intelligence.”

“How dare you. Don't you know who I am?!”

“Jim Morrison the Lizard King?” Daniel guessed. Vala smirked.

“I am Doctor Emmett Brown, time traveler and master of noneuclidian systems!”

Vala looked confused as Daniel's deadpanned glare cracked under his stifled laughter. “Wasn't that from one of Cam's 'movies'?” she asked.

Don't laugh at the madman don't laugh at the madman don't laugh at the... “Yes it was,” Daniel said after getting some control over himself.

“A movie made of my illustrious life!” 'Doc Brown' said.

“Well why don't you go work on more time machine stuff and we'll talk to the 'creatures'.”

“That is... a good idea!” The mad archivist meandered down a hallway.

Daniel sighed and tapped his radio. “Control, Delta Green brought in man who claims to be Doc Brown. Yes, **that** Doc Brown. Can someone find him and detain him? Also, remind whoever claims to be in charge that we mandate psyche evals for a reason? Thanks.”

“That was most odd,” Vala said.

“I've seen weirder,” Daniel said in a manner that sounded like he was tired of remembering. He pushed open the archive door.

A single guard stood by the door, looking on in that bored way that never quite covered a personal interest. Sheppard sat on a desk, flipping through plastic-coated sheets in a 3-ring binder. Sprawled out on the floor like giant cats were the 'creatures', or more accurately the creature and his sister. A carpet of photographs and pages from a family tree were spread around them like a sepia-toned minefield.

Sheppard looked up. “Dr. Jackson, you're up,” he said.

Two hands raised from the floor in greeting, neither owner looking up from their current task.

“Genealogy?” Daniel asked, looking down.

“What?” Jeannie asked.

_Not you. Gene **a** **logy.**_

“Oh.”

“So this is the creature,” Vala said. “I hear you were human-looking once. I may not have known you then.”

_Um..._

“And I can hear you.”

Rodney startled, photos sliding even as Jeannie hit him for it. _Wait, what? Since when? Have I been projecting? Oh Mother, who else?_

“If there were others you would hear of it,” Vala said, trying to sound assuring. “But you would not hear of me. I am Vala.”

Rodney stared.

Jeannie hit him again. “Say something,” she hissed.

_Oh! Um... Pleased to meet you?_

Jeannie groaned. “You're horrible at this.”

_Yeah well I'd like to see you do any better._

“Fine.” Jeannie stood up and politely shook Vala's hand. “Hello, Vala,” she said. “I'm Jeannie and this is my brother Meredith. I see you already heard about him. Not to worry, the condition is from Earth and it's not communicable.”

Vala laughed. “My dear, I'm not from Earth and his form doesn't scare me in the slightest. I've seen, done, and been worse.”

Daniel snorted.

“Quiet you,” Vala said.

Rodney perked up even as he listened. _You're that space pirate, aren't you?_

“Space... pirate?” Jeannie asked, looking like she'd gone far deeper than she'd expected.

“Former space pirate,” Vala said. “Everyone knows I gave it up. Right, my dear Daniel?”

“I still say you have everyone fooled,” Daniel said, deadpanned.

“Space pirate, huh?” Sheppard asked. “So how's that go?”

“It has its ups and downs,” Vala admitted. “Why? Interested?”

Rodney growled. _No he's not._

“Damn,” Sheppard said.

“Pity,” Vala said.

Jeannie took a step back from this strange human. Vala laughed.

Daniel sat down on the floor with a groan. “So what have you found, Rodney?”

Rodney laid back on the floor like a giant cat, his tail in Daniel's lap, and began to speak.

*****

The ocean gives and the ocean takes.

The upper-earth men above knew that once. They built their harbors and sailed their ships, took fish and food. They did not mourn when the ocean took its due, when the ships sank and the guilty were tossed overboard. But they have since forgotten.

Now the fish are scarce and the harbor chokes while they aim their prayers skyward to a myth. The sky does not answer, it never will. The sky does not give, nor does it take.

And then one upper-earth man remembered.

Pth'thya-l'yi went to his side, helped him remember how to give back to the ocean. Life for life, fish driven into nets in exchange for sacrifices. Any would do but he insisted. Young, fresh, full of life. Fish would not cover the debt.

But gold...

The upper-earth men coveted gold but not for its beauty. They melted down the artworks, burned away the years of craftsmanship. But Pth'thya-l'yi did not mind.

Yet.

Until Obed Marsh broke his end of the bargain.

Innsmouth fell under shadow as Pth-thya-l'yi sang the Songs of Mother Hydra and seduced the upper-earth males into breeding servitude. They would give to the ocean as surely as they demanded to take.

And the children would never die.

The Marsh family fell hardest. Oh they clung to the strange patriarchy that amused Father Dagon so, but Mother Hydra did not allow them to keep it long. The Marsh sons came expecting to become royalty, they became sacrifices. The Marsh women knew better and they sang the Songs up until the end, clad in the same gold Obed Marsh once coveted so.

Then death came screaming down from the surface. The towers shook and cracked, corals broke, terraces sundered. Lives were taken and deaths were revenged. The boats sank, falling to Mother's Song and the Great Waves. The town burned, the children lost.

But not all.

*****

_Our grandmother was born Rosalyn Marsh. She was the daughter of Esther Marsh, great granddaughter of Obed Marsh. She had no husband, she, ah, couldn't find a male who survived the, ah, well..._

“Ew,” Jeannie said.

“A mourning mother,” Vala mused. “I can appreciate that.”

“A mourning what?” Sheppard asked.

“It's like a black widow,” Daniel explained. “Same connotation.”

“Eee,” Sheppard said.

_Esther had five children, three survived childbirth. Rosalyn, Reginald, and Sabrina. Rosalyn was the eldest, eight years old when the raids happened. There are no records here; if the others were anything like Grandmama then they got lost in orphanages too._

_We had cousins, Jeannie. These here are Barbara and Bernard, both teenagers during the raid. They were taken captive, their Change studied. There's... there's no record of what happened to them._

“Nothing?” Jeannie asked.

Rodney shrugged. _Nothing. I hope..._ His breathing hitched, caught on a short hiss. _I hope they died quickly._

The door behind them opened. “What the...”

Sam stood in the doorway, her look of horror barely kept in check.

“What?” Daniel asked. He looked around at the others. Vala sat perched on the table, feet kicking idly in the air with a look of amusement aimed at Samantha. Only then did Daniel realize the rest of them were in a pile on the floor.

Rodney lay on the floor, tail wrapped around Daniel's waist. Sheppard lay against Rodney's belly, using him as a pillow, his legs tucked under him and his arms draped over Rodney. Jeannie lay sprawled over her brother, her head resting on his hip and one hand idly playing with Daniel's hair. Daniel's hands were elsewhere, one wrapped around one of Jeannie's, the other resting on Sheppard's neck.

“We're clothed,” Sheppard said defensively.

Sam's look of horror broke through its last barrier.

“The infirmary released me earlier,” Daniel said. “So long as I go back in a few hours and I don't do anything unwise.”

“This is wise?” Sam asked incredulously.

“It's not unwise,” Vala defended. “Sit down, Meredith tells the most interesting stories.”

“And you can hear him?!”

“Of course.” Vala smiled sweetly.

Sam looked around for something, anything. “Where's the guard?”

“He took off awhile ago,” Daniel said dismissively. “Something about a headache.”

“Not again,” Sheppard said, glaring at Rodney.

_Not my doing._

“Right, Meredith.” Sheppard still said the name mockingly.

Rodney reached up, grabbed Sheppard by the neck, and pulled him down into a lazy headlock. Human arms flailed before giving up.

“So what's up?” Daniel asked, as though this were all completely normal. “Or are you just here to check on us?”

“Medical found something interesting,” Sam said, eyes wide and voice a little dazed. “You... might all want to see this.”

“We'll be down in a minute,” Daniel said. “But first... How do we get up?”

“Um...” Jeannie said, trying to disentangle herself.

“Mmmph.” Sheppard pulled his head from Rodney's grip. “Yanno, I'm beginning to agree with Rodney. This is easier to do naked.”

“Is **that** why there was so much naked on Atlantis?” Jeannie asked.

“Why, Daniel, you didn't tell me about naked parties,” Vala smirked.

“I must have missed it,” Daniel said.

_Maybe next time._

“Assuming I get a next time.”

Rodney pulled his four feet underneath himself and lifted. The pile collapsed as limbs disentangled and hands stopped their distracting.

Sam sighed and left. They'd follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information on the Marsh family taken from 'Escape From Innsmouth' by Chaosium.


	10. A Disturbing Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Images are easy to obtain. But each one has a thousand words hidden in it. Are they willing to take the time to read?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains science

“Done being weird?” Sam asked.

The lot of them stood in the infirmary, all looking at a series of x-rays and CT slices. Rodney crouched on a bed, Jeannie sitting next to him. Sheppard, Sam, and Daniel all stood near the light boxes with different levels of comprehension. Vala had made her excuses and headed elsewhere.

“No promises,” Daniel said.

“Fair enough,” Sam allowed.

“So what are we looking at?” Sheppard asked. “Looks like neck x-rays.”

“They are,” said Dr. Lam. She carried a tablet, three file folders, and a stack of loose pages. “Looks like enough of you are here so let's get started.” She pointed to the first of several x-ray films. The names was covered by a little black stripe of ink. “This is a human neck. The larynx and trachea are here, anterior to the esophagus. Up here you see the epiglottis. When the swallow reflex occurs, the epiglottis folds over the opening to the trachea to prevent choking. The vocal cords use air pressure to create sounds which are then modified by the mouth and nasal structures. This is all basic human anatomy.”

“I think we all took high school science,” Jeannie said. “Unless... do they teach science in your high schools?”

“Yes,” Sam said, distinctly annoyed. “This is high school stuff. But, Dr. Lam, what about these here?”

Dr. Lam saw where Sam was pointing, to the other films. “Ah, you noticed,” she said. “We've actually known about this congenital abnormality for years now. Even the CDC hears about it from time to time. It's just never been linked to Deep One hybridization before.”

“Wait, what abnormality?” Jeannie asked.

Dr. Lam pointed to an x-ray. “The trachea is posterior to the esophagus,” she said. “In layman's terms, the tubes in the throat are backwards.”

“Why, though?” Sam asked. “There must be some sort of advantage or purpose.”

Dr. Lam grinned. “There is.” She handed around the tablet with its CT data of Dr. McKay. “We theorize that during the Change the epiglottis was repurposed, growing to separate the trachea and the esophagus permanently. The trachea connects his nasal cavity to his lungs, completely bypassing the mouth. The esophagus connects his mouth to his gills and his stomach. If you look closely you can still see a thinning of the tracheal cartilage where the epiglottis grew over the cavity.” She looked around at the less than comprehending faces of her audience. “Yes, that means he has two separate methods of breathing. He uses his mouth and gills underwater, his nose and lungs in the air.”

“Then how does he continue to make sounds?” Daniel asked. “He can be quite... vocal.”

“His larynx has shifted in structure and position,” Dr. Lam admitted. “It appears to be controlled by muscular action, though most of the broad range of sounds is likely due to the structure of the head. He does have a complex nasal structure despite the loss of his olfactory bulbs and Cranial Nerve 1 being altered.”

“Which nerve is that?” Jeannie asked.

“It's why he has no sense of smell,” Daniel said.

“Exactly,” Dr. Lam agreed. “Cranial Nerve 1 now reaches the Jacobson's Organ on the roof of his mouth where it can be of greater use in a marine setting.”

“So... what does this weird throat thing have to do with...” Jeannie didn't finish her sentence, not wanting to voice the 'with me'.

“Tell me, Mrs. Miller, did you have issues with coughs growing up?” Dr. Lam asked. “Colds? Allergies? Childhood pneumonia? Do you find it more comfortable to sleep on your front?”

Jeannie looked suspiciously at the doctor. “How did you know about...”

Dr. Lam held up her hands. “An educated guess, nothing more,” she promised. “You have the same physical abnormality and I believe it's congenital. It's likely you've had it since birth.”

“Could this be used to identify other hybrids?” Sam asked.

“Potentially,” Dr. Lam admitted. “I know the NID and Delta Green were interested in this line of questioning about ten years ago but they were, ah, 'unable to follow up on their subject'.”

“What does that mean?” Daniel asked.

_I think their 'subject' got transferred to Siberia._

“What was that?” Dr. Lam asked.

“Let me guess, Dr. McKay was the subject?” Sheppard asked.

“Well, they don't say who their subject was,” Dr. Lam said. She gathered up some loose leaf pages. “Here's what they had:

“'Subject presented with anaphylaxis due to malicious exposure to known allergen. Subject responded to 0.5mg epinephrine and was placed on albuterol nebulizer for 30 minutes. A supplementary exam was performed which discovered several physical abnormalities including tracheal displacement, scars on the hands, and the beginnings of skin plaques along the spine. Recommend the subject be isolated and further tests performed.'”

Rodney shuddered. _I remember that. Some idiot I'd just chewed out thought it would be funny to squeeze a lemon slice in the coffee pot._

“Wait, that was you?” Jeannie asked. “Someone tried to kill you!”

“Someone tried to **study** you,” Daniel said.

Sam smirked. “I told you Siberia would be good for you.”

Rodney gave a small growl.

“Dr. McKay was the subject, then,” Dr. Lam confirmed, making a note on the pages. “I had hoped so.”

“Hoped?” Jeannie asked.

“It's nowhere near a foolproof identification method,” Dr. Lam allowed. “And as Mrs. Miller's humanity seems to attest to, there are certainly hybrids who never make the Change. But with more examples we might eventually have a method.”

“That's good,” Sam said, still looking at the x-rays. “But what about these individuals?”

“That is Mrs. Miller, that is Corporal Jacob Evans in Security on level 8, and that is Dr. Sandy Frank, stationed at the Alpha Site. All display the same abnormality.”

Eyebrows shot up and jaws dropped. A chorus of “Oh”s echoed around the room.

“Level 8 houses the thorium reactor,” Sam said. She winced, her hands going to her temples as--

_You're honestly not thinking he's gonna melt down the reactor just because he's a hybrid are you? You can't even melt down a thorium reactor! The worst he can do--_

“Rodney...” Sheppard warned. Sam grunted in pain, doubling over.

_\--is open a valve and liquid salt gets everywhere which I admit is a bad idea it's, what, 700 degrees? And a fluoride salt? It can burn through--_

“Rodney!” Sheppard scolded. Sam lost her footing, staggering into Daniel.

_\--concrete sure and it's radioactive but you just wait until it cools then go in with a mop and--_

“RODNEY!” Sheppard shouted, punching him in the snout.

Rodney squealed and fell off the bed. He snarled, long and loud, stopping only when Sheppard hauled him up and turned him to see Sam Carter on her knees on the floor, face contorted in agony, hands gripping her head. Daniel sat on the floor with her, gently stroking her back.

_Oh..._

“Yes, 'oh,'” Sheppard snapped.

_I'll... shut up now?_

“Good idea,” Sheppard said. He knelt down next to Colonel Carter. “He's quiet,” he said. “You gonna be okay?”

Carter held her eyes clamped shut and groaned something about needing a bucket. Dr. Lam quickly passed over a kidney tray just before the retching began.

Rodney curled up next to Jeannie. She stroked his head as he bleated softly.

After a few minutes Carter was able to sit up and accept a cup of water to rinse. She glared at Rodney. “Get me Corporal Evans,” she growled. “Have him meet me in interrogation room 2, level 16.”

“If it helps, he says he's sorry,” Jeannie whispered.

Carter got to her feet. “Don't even,” she growled before staggering out of the infirmary.

“That could have gone better,” Sheppard said.

*****

Corporal Evans glanced nervously around the room. It was bare and barren save for the desk, two chairs, and the door. A single camera looked on from an upper corner but otherwise there was no way to look in or out. He had no idea why he was here.

Maybe it was like his buddies said and the SGC just randomly interrogated marines? Or maybe there was a security leak and they were hitting everyone one by one? But then wouldn't he have heard something? Whatever was going on he was sure it couldn't have been his fault.

The door opened and he straightened. He jumped to his feet and saluted when Colonel Carter walked in.

“At ease,” Carter said.

Evans relaxed and sat back down before allowing himself a good look. She looked like hell. Exhausted, pale, she moved like she was in pain. Maybe a migraine? But why would they send someone with a migraine in to do an interrogation?

“Do you know why you're here?” Carter asked.

“No, Ma'am,” Evans said.

“All right.” Carter took a deep breath. “There is a distinct genetic anomaly in certain families from New England, an anomaly that over time can result in a dangerous situation both for the afflicted and those around them. You show evidence of this affliction.”

Evans looked confused. “Ma'am?” he asked.

“What is your connection to Massachusetts?” Carter demanded.

“None,” Evans said.

“Absolutely none?” she demanded.

“None that I'm aware of, Ma'am,” Evans clarified. “My family's from the west coast. I grew up in Moss Landing, on Monterey Bay.”

Sam Carter sat back in her chair, eyeing the Corporal warily. “Tell me about your family,” she said.

“My dad works for the power plant,” Evans said. “My mom did some work for the Monterey Aquarium, volunteer work, until the boating accident.”

“Boating accident.”

“Yeah, it was real sudden,” Evans said. “She shouldn't have gone out alone, not in that tiny thing and not with the tide going out. You'd think she'd know better but the boat was swept out to sea. Coast Guard found it floating abandoned in the bay the next morning. I was 12.”

“I'm sorry,” Carter said.

“Thanks,” Evans said. He sighed. “Funny, her dad went the same way. Boating accident. Went out alone, never came back.”

The Colonel stared at him. It did not set him at ease.

“What did your mother look like before she died?” she asked. “If you don't mind...”

“She had large eyes, I remember that, because they could look right through you. And psoriasis, real bad, but she refused to go to a doctor about it since there's no cure so what were they gonna do, yanno?”

“How long has your family been around Monterey?”

“Well, my dad's family moved in from Texas but my mom's family's been there since the Gold Rush at least. They worked the whaling ships in the 1800s.”

“Were many of your mother's family lost at sea?”

“Well, yeah, but I mean, whaling was dangerous.”

Sam Carter got up. “You're dismissed,” she said. “Don't discuss this with anyone.”

“Yes Ma'am.” Evans stood and saluted as she left. Once she was gone he allowed his confusion to reign. What the heck...

*****

Sam stormed back to the infirmary. By luck Rodney and the others were still there, arguing over x-rays and theorizing about evolutionary convergence.

“Where else are Deep Ones located?” Sam demanded.

“What?” Sheppard asked.

“You heard me,” Sam said. “Where on Earth are Deep One nests found?”

“Massachusetts?” Sheppard said.

“The Mediterranean Sea, most of your tropical atolls, coast of Japan, coast of Mozambique, coast of Rio, Canary Islands,” Daniel said, ticking off the locations of Delta Green reports he'd read.

_Wales and the Black Sea._

“Coast of Wales,” Daniel continued. “The Black Sea? Wait, how? The Black Sea hasn't been flooded for more than 10 thousand years, could they have set up a nest so quickly?”

_While in the Soviet Army Radek worked with a Deep One from the Black Sea._

“Radek, you mean Zelenka?” Daniel nodded. “Huh.”

“Touching,” Sam growled. “Deep One nests. They're where? And don't tell me 'everywhere'.”

Daniel grinned nervously. “Everywhere might be the best answer,” he admitted.

_Everywhere that isn't cold._

“Okay, that narrows it a little bit,” Daniel agreed. “Warm to moderate coastal areas. All of them. Why?”

“Corporal Evans is a hybrid,” Sam said. “Family history of boating accidents with no bodies recovered. His eyes creep me out like Rodney's used to. He's from Monterey.”

“The west coast,” Daniel mused. "But... that's cold water. That means..."

Sam sat heavily in a chair, head in her hands. “They **are** everywhere.”


	11. A Suspicious Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's planning what? Is there any way to tell? Does it even matter anymore?

“So I hear you're leaving?”

Daniel looked up from his packing to find Vala leaning in the doorway. “Not for long,” he assured. “The infirmary let me go with a prescription for sunlight and fresh air.”

“And you're going to get those in a library filled with musty books?” Vala asked.

“The basement vault of a library,” Daniel said, as though that made it any better.

Vala gave him a look of fond amusement.

“The _Daedalus_ gets here in three days,” Daniel said. “It leaves again a week after that. It's safest for Rodney to be back to Atlantis as soon as possible.”

“And you think you can get your work done in ten days,” Vala marveled. “My, you do have a high opinion of yourself.”

Daniel shot her a look.

“Of course, my dear,” she said, humoring him. “I wonder, though, can the creature Meredith even read Latin?”

“How did you...” Daniel shook his head. He didn't want to know. Besides, Rodney read Ancient, Latin was based on Ancient. Surely that was enough of a basis, right? “Never mind, what brings you here?”

“Your beam-out is waiting,” Vala purred. “Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?”

Daniel zipped up his duffel, shouldering it easily. “It'll be boring,” he warned. “There's nothing fun to do there.”

“I'm sure I could find **some** thing...”

Daniel grinned evilly. “The city's greatest claim is trees,” he said. “They change color in the fall. Droves of people come to see... trees...”

Vala scowled. “Go read your musty books in your boring tree city.”

“I will,” Daniel said as he left her shaking her head.

He found Rodney and Sheppard in the beam-out area on level 17. Sheppard carried a duffel while Rodney murred nervously. As the Deep One caught sight of him Daniel found himself being added into a conversation.

_-but what about me? I mean, unless you have a diving suit or battle armor or one of those personal cloaks there's no way I can be seen walking around like this._

“Landry said they had something planned,” Sheppard said.

“Like what?” Daniel asked.

“Dunno,” Sheppard said. “Just 'something'.”

“It had better not be a hat and trench coat,” Daniel said deadpanned. “Just because it works for the ninja turtles doesn't mean it'll work in real life.”

Rodney snorted. Sheppard grinned even as Rodney glared up at him. _Stop imagining it._

“I didn't say a thing,” Sheppard said.

_You don't have to. I know you. Stop imagining it._

Sheppard kept grinning even as they got into position and the world went white.

*****

“Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Jackson, welcome to the _Apollo_.”

“Colonel Ellis,” Sheppard said.

Daniel looked around. They had beamed directly to the bridge of the _Apollo_. He idly wondered why it was always the bridge. He also noticed that Rodney had raised his dorsal spines and was rasping his gill plates.

“And this is...” Ellis said, gesturing to Rodney.

Rodney pushed himself up to his hind legs, towering over the Colonel even as the man tried to appear composed and commanding. His spines rattled and his tail lashed behind him as a low hiss issued from his throat.

“You've, ah, met before,” Sheppard said. “Tell me, what did the SGC tell you concerning a Deep One on Atlantis?”

Ellis's composure shook. “I thought that was a...” He cleared his throat. “Then this is...”

Sheppard nodded.

McKay made a noise that began as a growl, rising up in volume and pitch until it hit a shriek, then fell back into a growl as he glared down the Colonel. That growl took on horrible implications as it grew tainted with chirps, barks, and snarls.

Ellis glanced at Sheppard and Daniel, looking for some sort of backup. What he got instead was an affronted look of utter shock from Daniel and a neutral look from Sheppard. “What... did he just say?” Ellis asked.

Sheppard looked uncomfortable. “He said 'You're the idiot who tried to get himself and his crew brutally killed by ignoring everything I said.' Sir.”

Ellis glared back at McKay and tried to puff himself up. It didn't work as the Deep One just stood taller, seeming to lord his height over the man. “Is that so?” he asked.

“Actually, Dr. McKay was much less... kind... with his words,” Daniel said. He was well aware of the crew who watched their every movement, listened to their every word.

Ellis glared at Daniel then back at McKay. Sheppard wisely stayed out of it.

Ellis pulled back first. “You'll be beamed down around 1 AM local time,” he said in tense, clipped tones. “You'll be north of Arkham under cover. There's a car waiting for you within a kilometer of the beam-in point. Dr. Jackson, you'll find the keys in the usual place. The SGC has acquired cover and lodging in Arkham near the university.”

“I hope it's better than last time,” Daniel said. “They had me boarding in a farmhouse in Kansas.”

“Doesn't sound that bad,” Sheppard said.

“Don't get me started,” Daniel said, groaning. “They had me up before sunrise, they were certified members of the Flat Earth Society, they made me read the Bible every night to 'save me', and they kept making the same damn Superman jokes over and over. Greeted me with a shotgun and it did not get better.”

_Why does the SGC even have you researching stuff on Earth?_

“I had a hypothesis and they reported finding artifacts,” Daniel defended. “Turns out Clovis had nothing to do with anything.”

_If he goes on a rant about how he's been a god I'm leaving._

“I heard that,” Daniel snapped even as Sheppard looked torn between laughing and running.

Ellis rubbed his temples against a blooming headache. He leaned down over the pilot's station. “Captain Frank, will you show our three 'guests'... elsewhere?” He left the 'get them off my bridge' unspoken.

“Yes sir,” Frank said.

*****

“Rodney... what are you doing?” Sheppard asked.

“He was doing the same thing outside of Janus's lab,” Daniel said.

“Rodney...”

They were in the engine room, empty save for the three of them. Rodney had slid up a wall, purring dreamily as he pressed himself against it.

“You look ridiculous,” Sheppard warned.

One blue eye slid open. _Well we can't all look human, Mr. Still-Has-Hair._

“Being human isn't what keeps me from humping walls,” Sheppard drawled.

Rodney huffed. _Not humping anything. The main power conduit runs just under here. I'm feeling it._

“That sounds... dirty...” Daniel said.

_Fuck you. No, literally, I can **feel** the power running through here. It's all tingly like wet sand blown by a current or... or little nibbles from cleaner fish! Or... I dunno..._

“Like electricity?” Daniel supplied.

_Better than that. Oh hey, I should find out what the ZedPM feels like when we get back._

“Only if you stop being obscene with the wall,” Sheppard said. “And only if you can guarantee the ZPM won't get all gross.”

 _Oh eww._ Rodney pulled himself from the wall, dropping to all fours as he glared at Sheppard.

The door opened. Captain Frank walked in. “Your beam-out's waiting,” he said. He gave Rodney an odd look.

“Good, let's get this train wreck over with,” Sheppard said.

They moved back to the bridge for final instructions and a flash of bright light.

And then darkness.

They materialized in unlit night in the middle of a salt marsh.

*****

“Ellis did this on purpose,” Daniel grumbled. He trudged with his duffel slung over his back in a desperate attempt to keep it dry.

“I don't think this was Ellis's plan,” Sheppard mused. “Landry said they had something planned but he wouldn't elaborate when I asked. Besides, there's supposedly a car around here.”

_I doubt that._

“Why's that?” Daniel asked.

 _We're north of Arkham, Ellis said._ Rodney looked around, his expression unreadable. _I know where we are. There are no roads here, not anymore. There's nothing left._

Daniel paused, realization stopping him in his tracks. He looked around with night-blind eyes, taking in the few stars that shone through the light-polluted sky, the crash of the waves, the pervasive stench of salt and rot and fish. The outlines of a few stone foundations and fallen chimneys caught his eye as did the faint suggestion of ruins still crumbling even after 80 years of dynamite, decay, and desertion.

“This... is what's left of Innsmouth...” Daniel whispered.

Now that he realized it Daniel could see the faint edges of former roads in the patterns of sedge grass, could smell the wood rotting under the mud, could trace the lines of ruins on overgrown hills near the river's banks. Half a bridge spanned the river, leaning on the edge of collapse. The ominous burned shell of the gold refinery still stood in the treeline, a silent sentinel glaring judgment down on all who dared trespass.

He could see the lantern-like eyes and dark hulking shape as Rodney paced along what must once have been a street.

“This is a bad idea,” Daniel whispered to Sheppard. “We need to get out of here.”

“Why?” Sheppard asked.

“There's a whole nest of Deep Ones right off shore,” Daniel said, pointing to the low black line that still marked Devil Reef.

“And there's one right there,” Sheppard drawled, pointing to Rodney as he dug through the mud and nosed around in the grass.

Daniel growled. “No, I mean...” He took a deep breath. “The city of Y'ha-nthlei is right **there**. That's where his family's from. Mother Hydra is there, right now, Singing to call all her children home.”

“What do you mean?” Sheppard asked.

“If he hears her...”

Rodney's head shot up, listening for something.

“We may never get him back,” Daniel said.

Sheppard took off, trudging through the mud until he reached the slightly more solid ground over the ruins. He came up behind Rodney. “Hey, buddy, how about we get out of here?” Sheppard asked.

Rodney looked distracted. _Hmm? Oh... I was just... Do you hear that?_

Sheppard's blood ran cold. “Hear what?”

_It's like... singing..._

Sheppard shot a worried glance to Daniel even as the other man neared them.

Rodney hopped off the high ground into a tidal pond, close to the tide line. He disappeared underwater before popping back up, streaked in mud and grass. _It's stronger underwater. It's... I've heard it before..._

“Rodney,” Sheppard warned from the bank.

“Rodney, listen to me,” Daniel pleaded. “You don't want to follow the Song.”

Rodney looked up at him. _Why not? It's... I could be..._ He shuddered.

“Yes, you could,” Daniel admitted. “You could go there, be among family you never knew, listen to Mother's Song, add your own voice as you all try to Sing the stars right. But you would never leave.” Daniel crouched down on the muddy bank, his shoes sinking into the muck at the edge of the pond. “You would never be able to come back. Atlantis, your Nest, your own Song, all of it would be lost.”

_I... I don't..._

“Rodney, please,” Sheppard said. “Don't do this.”

_John... What do I do?_

“Come with us,” Sheppard said. “Come back to us.”

Daniel shivered. For a moment it felt like they were being watched.

 _I can't..._ Rodney swam to the far edge of the pond, climbing up onto the mudflat. The sound of the tide seemed to grow ominous.

“Rodney!” Sheppard shouted. He dropped his duffel and jumped into the water, disappearing almost instantly under black mud.

“Sheppard!” Daniel shouted.

 _John!_ Rodney leapt forward into the tidal pond, disappearing just as quickly. He came back up with Sheppard. _Not again, you'd better not be..._

Sheppard coughed and sputtered. “Ugh!”

Rodney growled even as he held Sheppard above the muddy grassy water.

“You can't leave,” Sheppard gasped.

_Not gonna... well... maybe..._

“Oh hell, no you don't,” Sheppard snapped. “You don't need the Mother's Song, you have your own! You have your own plans for Atlantis. Don't think I don't remember.”

_Remember? Wait, when did you..._

Sheppard wrapped his hands around Rodney's arms, as much to remind himself that he was still there as to hold him in place. “We had to share dreams,” he said. “You dragged me underwater, saved us from that stupid whale. Atlantis was there, awake and alight and alive. And there were...”

_You remember that? I thought you'd forgotten..._

“I know you have plans for Atlantis,” Sheppard admitted. “You have your own Song and we're all... Rodney... Don't leave...”

Rodney began to purr, slowly nuzzling Sheppard.

Daniel sat on the muddy bank, heedless of the wet feeling against his rear. So there were 'evil Deep One plans' for Atlantis. Even with all their paranoia Delta Green was right...

He got up and left Sheppard and Rodney to nuzzle in the muck. Daniel wandered away from the tide line, toward the upper marsh. His feet slipped and slid in the mud, sedge grasses whipped at his thighs, far too many bright eyes watched him as he went. There was a plan. Of course there was a plan, why wouldn't there be? Yog-Sothoth had his plans, he felt them as a slight tickle against his mind upon traversing every event horizon. The Ancients had their plans even as they claimed neutrality, plans he sometimes recalled in the depths of night and madness. Anubis once had his plans, as had the Ori, the Goa'uld, even the Asgard had their plans. In the end the only difference was what role humanity played, whether they be pawns, beneficiaries, or completely unimportant.

His foot hit something hard. Daniel glanced down but he couldn't see past the darkness and the oppressive marsh grass. He knelt down, digging through the mud to find...

It was surprisingly heavy. Even through 80 years of mud he could still see patterns, reliefs, the skill that went into sculpting the intricate gold jewelry.

Rodney had his plans. But that didn't mean Daniel had to interfere.


	12. An Anticipated Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vengeance against the unwise would wait. First they had a task.

The car was where Ellis said it would be, though he'd 'misjudged' the distance. McKay directed them through the streets of Arkham to the house, a large Victorian sectioned out into four separate apartments commonly rented to groups of students.

The sky was fading into blue-grey when Daniel pulled the car up to the curb. He tossed the apartment keys to Sheppard so they could get McKay inside before the sun rose and the town awoke.

They were filthy messes. Their clothes were streaked with mud, they were soaked to the skin, their shoes were caked in filth, Sheppard still had blades of sedge grass dangling from his hair.

“I call shower first,” Sheppard said as he grabbed the keys and ran.

Daniel rolled his eyes as Rodney hopped up the steps into the cover and anonymity of the apartment. He grabbed his and Sheppard's duffels, ignoring the mud that still dripped from them, and trudged into the apartment.

It was... not unoccupied.

“Dr. Jackson, welcome to Arkham.”

Daniel looked the man up and down. “I didn't realize we'd have an escort,” Daniel said. “You are...”

The man saluted, though the action was less than precise. “Robert Waite,” he said. “I've been a civilian contractor with your organization for close to twenty years.”

That struck Daniel as odd. The SGC hadn't even been an organization for twenty years and as far as he knew they didn't keep their civilians so far afield. Unless... “You're with Delta Green, aren't you?” he realized.

Robert looked shocked then suspicious. He gestured down the hall where Rodney's still-wet footprints led. “You're not...”

“Our organization is... collaborating with Delta Green,” Daniel explained. It was close enough. “They didn't tell us you'd be here.”

“Ah,” Robert said, though he remained distant.

“They also didn't tell us we'd be routed through the remains of Innsmouth,” Daniel said, deadpanned.

Robert snorted. “You must have pissed off someone.”

“I have an idea who.” Daniel directed his unimpressed glare down the hall.

“Might as well get your stuff,” Robert said. “We'll need to hose out the car before it smells.”

“Too late,” Daniel warned.

*****

_This would be easier if you could think back to me._

“We're not Deep Ones, Rodney,” Daniel said as he worked.

_And whose fault is that?_

They were in the kitchen. It was a disturbingly cheerful setup with bright morning sunlight streaming through the double-hung window, a red and white checkered tablecloth, pale blue walls, birds singing outside, and cute pictures of happy smiling flowers on the walls. Sheppard rummaged through the fridge, thankful someone had thought to stock it as he searched for some sort of breakfast. Rodney crouched on a whitewashed dining chair, elbows on the kitchen table as he purred sweet nothings to the mug of coffee in his claws. Daniel stood at the sink, gently rinsing the grit and mud out of the jewelry he'd found in the marsh.

_I didn't know you went through Delta Green to get me here. Do they even know why we're here?_

“I went through General O'Neill,” Daniel defended. “As to whether or not... I have no idea.”

_Are we gonna have to hide our research?_

Daniel shrugged. “I've done so before.”

Sheppard pulled a carton of eggs and a package of bacon from the fridge. “One of you knows how to cook, right?” he asked.

The look Daniel had was akin to a rabbit facing down a ravenous fox.

Rodney growled. _Oh just give me that._ He took the foodstuffs and put them on the table before hopping off his chair and rummaging around for pans.

“We're going to be eating a lot of fish... aren't we...” Daniel realized.

Sheppard merely shrugged as Rodney found a pan, lit the fire, and began frying bacon.

*****

_First step should be to contact Professor Randall._

“I thought the first step would be to hit the library,” Sheppard said between bites of toast.

_Absolutely not. That place is full of Elder Signs and enchantments and librarians and all sorts of failsafes to keep things like me out. Made doing research as a student really difficult._

“I can imagine,” Daniel mused. He dipped a piece of bacon in his egg yolk. “How did you manage it?”

_I was not the only hybrid enrolled. There are... procedures. Most of them involved sucking up my discomfort and not looking._

“That sounds...” Daniel wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Rodney shrugged as he stacked his eggs and bacon into a sandwich with pieces of toast and a tomato. _And we need a professor's expressed permission to enter the vault. That's a blanket requirement. Applies to everyone and everything._ He took a large bite, growling and tearing messily at the sandwich. It went down in far too few bites, leaving him licking at the greasy remains on his claws.

“I guess you're talking to the professor,” Sheppard said, glancing at Daniel.

“I could,” Daniel said, unsure. “But then I was never his student.”

Rodney hissed questioningly. _I can't go out like this. People will see._

“I could bring him here,” Daniel allowed.

Rodney hissed, long and low as he thought. _That might work... Remember, though, he knew me as Meredith. Refused to call me Rodney no matter how often I asked. Something about not wanting to insult my family._

“Around here, Rodney, not wanting to insult your family sounds like an excellent reason.”

*****

When Daniel first walked into Professor James Randall's office he immediately felt a sense of longing. The bookshelves of chaotically arranged strange old books, the artifacts set on any flat space available, the dark wood paneling, the two comfy chairs, this was the kind of office he'd always envisioned for himself when he was a grad student. It was a far cry from the sterility of the SGC where his color choices were beige or grey.

“You wished to speak to me?” Professor Randall asked.

Daniel pulled himself from his reverie. “Yes, my name is Dr. Daniel Jackson. Your name, and indeed Miskatonic itself, came recommended to me in regards to certain avenues of research I'm following.”

Professor Randall nodded, his expression neutral.

“I'm hoping to get into the Special Collections Vault.”

Randall's eyes went wide before his expression drew closed. “Have we met before?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, we have,” Daniel said. “You attended a lecture of mine fifteen years ago. I believe you were the only one who didn't walk out.”

Randall looked like he was expecting a different answer. He paused, thinking, before memory served him. “You have to admit, your ideas were... outlandish,” Randall said carefully.

“No more so than others,” Daniel countered.

“Perhaps.” Professor Randall got up from his desk and gestured toward the two comfy chairs in the corner, a low table between them. Daniel took a seat even as the elder professor eased himself into his own chair. “I'm afraid, Dr. Jackson, you've come at an inopportune time. Student orientation begins next week and the semester beings the week after. Most researchers of your... particular bent... come earlier in the summer when the library is less busy.”

“I do apologize, but I have been unavailable the past few months,” Daniel admitted.

“Regardless, I do hope you understand my reluctance to allow you access,” Randall said. “Visiting researchers are not allowed in the Vault unsupervised.”

“Perfectly understandable considering what's down there,” Daniel said, perhaps a little too quickly.

“And this close to the term we don't have time to supervise mere casual perusal.”

Daniel felt affronted. “I assure you, Professor, my interest is by no means casual. My companions and I are absolutely serious about our research and what it could mean.”

“Your... companions,” Randall said carefully.

“Yes. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of the US Air Force and Dr. Meredith McKay. I believe you're acquainted with Dr. McKay, at least he was the one who recommended you to me.”

Randall's shock was visible before it disappeared under a deep suspicion. “I was under the impression that Dr. McKay would be... unavailable by now...”

“Yes, he has taken to the water,” Daniel said bluntly. “That doesn't mean he's left for Y'ha-nthlei, nor does he have plans to do so, though he has been given... ample opportunity.” It was true enough, he'd had plenty of opportunity the night before.

“And his position hasn't suffered for it?” Randall asked, unconvinced.

“That is partly why we're here,” Daniel said. “We're looking for a formula that would allow him to veil himself in a human illusion. It would make certain aspects of his position easier to maintain. In fact, we're staying in town if you'd like to see him. He's spoken very highly of you.”

Professor Randall still looked unconvinced as the conversation waned and Daniel excused himself. Still, he accepted their temporary address with a determined look in his eye.

Daniel gave it three days before they'd find a knock on their door.

*****

Robert held an empty box of salt, expecting others to be as indignant as he was about this. “I just bought this,” he whined. “And now it's all gone! Dr. Jackson, make your Deep One stop using all the salt!”

Daniel stood in the middle of the hallway. Robert Waite stood on one end near the kitchen, indignant and annoyed. On the other end Rodney crouched as though waiting to charge into a brawl, spitting and snarling and hissing.

_What else am I supposed to bathe in?! I've had put up with the itchiness and dizziness of freshwater for weeks, you hear me, weeks! I am tired of it! It's bad enough that I have to be trapped in this house of the doily-damned but nooo, the Delta Green stooge wants me to die of salt imbalance!_

“Robert, Dr. McKay has been using the salt to make the bathwater more comfortable,” Daniel said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Well why does he have to use my salt?” Robert demanded. “Why can't he just swim in the ocean like the rest of the sea monsters?”

_Oh he did not just--_

“McKay!” Daniel shouted.

_But you heard--_

“I heard,” Daniel said, growling dangerously. He turned to Robert. “You... are just going to have to stock up on salt. I don't care if it's road salt or sea salt or whatever.”

_Road salt?! Why I never--_

Daniel turned to Rodney. “And you! Maybe if you tried sleeping in a bed some of us might be able to take a damned shower! There's only one bathroom in this place and your monopolizing it is not helping.”

There was a knock on the door.

“And find Colonel Sheppard,” Daniel demanded. “He's supposed to be your Voice, McKay, find a way to keep him useful instead of traipsing all over town!” He took a deep breath, tried not to look annoyed, and opened the door.

“Professor Randall?”

The professor stood on the doorstep. “Have I come at a bad time?” he asked.

“Not at all, come in, come in.” Daniel held the door open even as he heard the faint squeal and scramble of McKay ducking out of sight.

“You realize you'll have neighbors by the end of the week,” Randall warned. “Your situation may be harder to hide with students listening in. Especially with those noises I heard. Was that indeed...”

Daniel heard a bleating 'eep' and a splash from the bathroom. He resisted the urge to rub his temples. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“How is it he... I mean, his chosen field requires a grasp of fine mathematical communication. Is he still capable of speaking?"

Daniel led the professor to the living room. He rolled his eyes at the detritus of four males staying in close quarters, none of whom felt the need to clean. Coffee cups littered the table, papers and pages were scattered on the furniture, and the TV was on despite no one watching it. He quickly cleared off the couch before offering Professor Randall a seat and turned off the television.

A faint 'I was watching that' shouted from the other side of the apartment.

“Dr. McKay has completely lost all vestiges of his human voice,” Daniel explained even as he moved a stack of paper onto the coffee table. “But he's also developed a form of mental telepathy. He can plant thoughts in the minds of his companions.”

“Is that wise?” Randall asked.

Daniel shrugged. “At first it is... painful. For me the headache was so bad I hallucinated and lost time. Others seem to have no symptoms at all. Of course, once the human's mental barriers break down the headache ends and his thoughts can be heard.”

“I see...”

“He hasn't displayed any sort of ability to control minds, if that's what you're asking.”

Randall nodded, visibly relaxing. “That's good to know.”

“All, and I do mean all, of his co-workers have accepted the situation. He converses in their minds as easily as you and I are verbally.”

_There's someone here. I can hear you, Daniel._

“Dr. Jackson are you...”

Daniel shook his head. “Oh? Sorry. Meredith doesn't need line of sight.”

“Is he... speaking to you now?”

Daniel nodded.

Randall sat back, impressed. “I was wondering if I might...” He cleared his throat. “Dr. Jackson, I've been following Meredith's Change since he was sixteen years old. Even after he graduated he kept me informed about his accomplishments and his... situation. I spoke to his sister not two months ago. She'd just seen him and even then he hadn't yet taken to the water. If he has since then...”

Daniel nodded. “Give me a moment.” He got up and headed to the bathroom.

Rodney lay in the half-filled bathtub, his tail draped over the side and his head resting on the edge. He murred softly.

“Professor Randall would like to see you,” Daniel said softly.

_Like this?_ Rodney huffed. _I know..._

“Well he has been keeping up with your Change. How's he managed that I wonder, with you off in another galaxy...”

Rodney attempted to look innocent.

“And before that in Siberia. And before then Area 51.”

_I dunno..._ Rodney's tail lashed, stopping only when it slammed against a wall.

“What amazes me is how you've been able to get this information past SGC security.”

_The SGC doesn't check domestic mail. Not when sent without a return address, from inside an unaffiliated post office..._

“Magnificent...”

Daniel and Rodney both started, turning to find the professor standing in the doorway. Rodney shrieked and tried to hide underwater, succeeded only in jamming his snout into the porcelain. _Ow._

“No, don't be afraid,” Randall said, one hand out as if coaxing a wild animal.

Rodney sat up and blinked at him. _He's... not afraid of me?_

“Why would he be?” Daniel asked.

Rodney crawled out of the tub, slinking on all fours. Once his feet were on the floor and his tail unhindered he raised up to his full height, gill plates fluttering in nervousness.

“Truly magnificent,” Randall marveled. “The level of adaptation is astounding. Amazing. Look, you can see where the human anatomy was repurposed, especially in the limbs.” He grabbed one of Rodney's hands, splaying the fingers. “I'd always wondered if removing the webbing was a bad idea but this, Meredith, this is astounding! The dexterity you must be capable of like this!”

Rodney's tail lashed out of discomfort even as he began to purr.

“Is that...” Randall's face lit up like a child's. “Meredith, you absolutely must allow me to record the sounds you make!”

“Another time, perhaps,” Daniel said. That purr was not entirely a comfortable one. “For now, surely you can see why we're here, Professor. I'd heard through... other sources... that there exists or perhaps existed a formula that would allow someone like Meredith to veil himself in a human disguise. He figured if it existed anywhere it would be here, in the Miskatonic Vaults.”

“Of course, of course,” Randall said. “I'll take you down personally. Will tomorrow suffice? There are forms that need to be filled out.”

“Tomorrow is most excellent,” Daniel said, leading Randall out of the bathroom. Rodney followed, dropping to all fours to hop out. “Though if you don't mind my asking, how are we going to get Meredith past all the onlookers and the Elder Signs?”

“Leave that to me.”

 


	13. A Pitiful Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are ways to sneak a Deep One past the Elder Signs without drawing attention. This is not one of them.

_This is a horrible idea._

“Rodney, be quiet,” Daniel hissed.

_This is the worst idea I've ever heard of._

“You should have said so before,” Daniel whispered.

_I **did** say so before._

“Rodney I said shut up. You're making noise!”

Rodney hunched down but at least he stayed upright.

“Where did Sheppard get off to anyways?”

_And now you want me to talk. Make up your mind!_

“Quiet, both of you,” Professor Randall said. They were nearing the library and his great idea for keeping Rodney hidden was... less than successful. He'd taken a page from the book of every hybrid to ever grace the campus, draping the Deep One in blue robes and a cloak while ordering him to walk upright.

It did nothing to limit their attention, especially as they passed the statue of Henry Armitage at the library's entrance, the statue's twin Elder Signs making Rodney wince and murr and shake.

_I, I can't, it hurts... make it stop..._

Professor Randall stepped in front of Rodney, grabbing his hands. “Look at me, Meredith,” he said. “Don't look at the statue, look at me. All you have to do is take a few steps and it'll all be over. Come on, just one.”

Rodney shuddered and hissed. _No... please no... it burns..._

“Shhh, it's okay, you're doing well, Meredith, just one step, that's good, one more...”

Daniel watched, amazed as the professor talked Rodney past the very Elder Signs meant to keep the library safe from creatures like him. He watched as the professor all but dragged Rodney forward, step by shuffling step up the steps of the library to the large glass doors.

They were far from alone.

First it was a few onlookers, then more, then far too many. As Daniel listened to their muttering it suddenly became clear why the professor kept calling Rodney by his given name.

“Meredith? You don't think...”

“The Marsh family's back in town...”

“I met his sister. She was here last...”

“A tiny little hybrid...”

“That can't be Meredith...”

“Is that really...”

“I guess the Elder Signs really do...”

The library door opened and Rodney all but ran inside. Daniel went up the steps to follow and tried not to shudder.

Rodney was right. Those Elder Signs were creepy.

*****

The path down to the Vault was much less momentous. A single Elder Sign lurked in mosaic above the door to the Special Collections Vault but that was taken care of by a librarian's assistant with a stepladder and a sheet of cardboard.

The head librarian Diana Thurston greeted them. “Good morning, Professor,” she said. “I see you're... supervising...” She trailed off and glared meaningfully at Rodney. “Really, Professor...”

Professor Randall smiled easily as he handed her a stack of pages. “Mrs. Thurston, I'm sure you remember Meredith McKay.”

Diana's eyes went wide. “Meredith? My god, is that you? You know, your sister was here not two months ago.”

Rodney chirped and bleated.

“We heard,” Daniel said. “My apologies, Dr. McKay has trouble speaking due to his... transformation.”

“And you are?” Diana asked.

“Dr. Daniel Jackson. I'm here to assist Dr. McKay in his research.”

Diana looked through the pages Randall gave her. “Everything here seems to be in order,” she said. “But you're missing someone? There's a third person in your party, a Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard... wait...” She pulled out a separate stack of forms. “Your third person's been here for the past two days.”

“What,” Daniel demanded.

“Yes, he came in here with Dr. Abbot,” Diana said.

Rodney dropped to all fours and growled.

“Stand up, Meredith,” Randall said, prodding him.

Rodney snarled, staying crouched on all fours.

“Who's Dr. Abbot?” Daniel asked.

“Mathematics,” Diana said. “Are you sure John Sheppard's in the army? It says here he's a mathematician from Stanford.”

Rodney huffed. _Dammit Sheppard..._ He let loose a hiss that grew in intensity until everyone had their hands to their ears.

“He's in the Air Force,” Daniel clarified once Rodney had quieted down. “And yes, I believe he has his Masters in Advanced Mathematics from Stanford.”

The door to the inner vault opened. A snort issued from it. “Nice disguise, Rodney.”

Rodney snarled at Sheppard before hopping past him, hitting him with his tail on the way. _If you sign your name in a black book I'm not saving you._

“What's this about a 'black book'?” Sheppard asked.

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed even as Randall named off a series of titles. First  _Feery's Complete Notes_ then _A Conjectural Translation_ then the _Cthaat Aquadingen_ then...

*****

_You're seriously reading the Necronomicon._

“Yes, Rodney, I'm seriously reading the _Necronomicon_ ,” Sheppard said, rolling his eyes. He sat at one of the three tables in the inner vault, white cotton gloves protecting the ancient parchment pages of the dreaded Dr. Dee translation. “The English version, anyway. I dunno, seems like most of the good stuff's missing.”

“That's because parts **are** missing,” Professor Abbot said. “Dr. Dee's manuscript is a translation of an abridged translation. Much was lost during the Inquisition and the subsequent witch trials.”

“Hmm,” Sheppard said, carefully turning pages until he hit upon something interesting. He took out a sheet of paper and started making notes.

_You're not bringing that home, Sheppard._

Sheppard gave Rodney a grin that said 'try and stop me'.

Rodney dropped the cloak as Randall handed him a book. “Remember why you're here,” Randall said, glaring at them all.

Daniel ignored him, instead looking around at this rarest of rare collections. The SGC had its own copy of the Dee translation but not the Latin version and certainly not many of these books so often labeled 'heretical' or 'blasphemous' or simply 'occult'.

He glanced at the books behind the bars of their cages, through the locked glass separating them from the outside world. He longed to run his fingers down spines bound in human skin, in linen and leather, in modern plastic. Bone scroll cases beckoned next to steel tubes and stone tablets. A single clay bas-relief sat unbound and unprotected, its edges worn by questing fingertips, Great Cthulhu's visage staring blankly back at him.

“Why isn't this one locked away?” Daniel wondered aloud.

“It's a modern piece,” Randall said. “And a reminder. It was donated to the University after the death of its owner. Local legend says it was carved in early 1925 when the stars went right.”

“When Great Cthulhu's dreams broke through risen R'lyeh and drove the art world mad,” Daniel mused.

“Indeed,” Randall agreed.

Daniel drew his finger along the relief's head, down its face to feel the individual tentacles, ending at a single curled claw. He felt the incredible urge to cut his finger, to allow the image to drink even just a single drop of blood.

“Dr. Jackson?” Randall asked.

If Daniel could he would purr.

“Daniel?” Sheppard asked. “Are you all right?”

Daniel drew his hand to his lips, feeling the sharp edge of his own teeth. It would be so easy...

_Daniel!_

Suddenly the urge was gone. Daniel turned to see far too many sets of eyes watching him. He blushed. “Sorry, what?”

_Stop being crazy and get over here._

“I'm not being...” Daniel's protest died behind its own lie as his blush deepened and he slunk over to sit next to Rodney. “Sorry...”

Rodney nudged him with his snout. _Try to stay with us, hmm? Latin has weird grammar so unless you want to translate it to Ancient or something I'll need your help._

Daniel looked at him, eyebrows raised in delighted shock. “You? Asking for help?”

_Shut up._

*****

Sheppard sat back, stretching and rubbing his eyes. “Ugh, I need coffee. Who's up for lunch?”

“No food or drink in the Vaults,” Professor Randall said absently. He was too busy watching Rodney and Daniel arguing and taking notes, curious about the strange spiky writing system they used.

“We can go get food then come back,” Sheppard said.

_I'm not risking those Elder Signs more than I have to._

“There's no way to sneak him in and out?”

Randall snorted. “Of course not. It's not safe, too many attempted robberies. Too many cultists.”

“Fine, I'll go. Dr. Jackson, you coming?”

Daniel waved him off absently. “I'm fine. You go.”

_Don't sign any books..._

Sheppard gave Rodney a look before shaking his head and leaving.

“You don't really think he's going to sign the Black Book, do you?” Daniel wondered.

_His degree is in math and he's reading the Necronomicon, what do you think? Five bucks says he's researching how to use weird angles to enter subspace._

“You're on.” Daniel left Rodney to his notes and moved to the other table, delving into Sheppard's math.

_You'd better not be signing any books either._

“Already did,” Daniel called.

Rodney sat up, dorsal spines raised in alarm before he realized who he was talking to. His spines fell as he glared with a long-suffering sigh. _Of course you did..._

Daniel merely laughed as he began to read.

*****

Nor is it to be thought that the earth is the only world mastered by Them, or that these worlds wander alone and separate in their lonely spaces. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. He knows where the gates break through the Void. He knows the trails between the gates. He knows where They have trod the trails between the gates and where They still tread and why no Void can contain Them. By their rings shall the gates be known, by their seven markings shall the trails of the Void be tread.

Ia! Shub-Niggurath! As a false sea shall ye know the gates. As a foulness shall ye know Them. They tread the trails yet ye see Them not as They try to break the trails and close the gates. Yog-Sothoth is the key to the gate whereby the rings meet, whereby the trails of the Void open. They would defy Yog-Sothoth.

Man rules now where They ruled once; They would see Their rule returned. They work, patient and potent, for here shall They seek to rule again.

*****

Daniel sat back, eye half-closed as he grew lost in thought, in memory, in a waking dream.

The Ancients had their plans, plans he sometimes remembered while in the depths of exhaustion, dream, and madness.

Plans he recalled now.

He lay his hands on Sheppard's notes, simple equations and formulae for entering and exiting subspace. He slid the pages aside, finding a blank sheet. He picked up a pen and began to theorize.


	14. A Bad Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembers Their plans. He feels Yog-Sothoth's presence. What if they don't align? What can he do?

John Sheppard returned an hour later, belly full and a few contraband power bars in his pocket. Even if McKay's hypoglycemia had gotten better since his Change, and did that mean it was a symptom or what, that didn't mean he wanted to deal with an angry hungry Deep One snarling at stray Elder Signs.

He came down to the Vault to find Diana reluctant to let him in. Odd, she'd never had a problem before.

Oh.

Sheppard saw the problem immediately.

The two professors hid behind a barricade of chairs as Rodney bleated and purred and begged at...

Great. Just... Great....

Daniel turned wild eyes on Sheppard as he walked in. “I know Their plans... the Others... the Ancients... the Old Ones...”

This... was not good. “Daniel,” Sheppard said. “Are you going to be okay?”

Daniel giggled. “None of us are okay... If we hadn't found the gate... the gate, Sheppard, the gate is the key is Yog-Sothoth is the gate... Every time we step through the event horizon I can feel it... Yog-Sothoth has plans... I can **feel** it...”

Sheppard glanced over at Rodney who was now flipping through a book bound in what looked like human skin. He seemed to find a correct page as he stopped skimming and instead read intensely.

“I remember... when I was one of Them... Sheppard... They seek out and collapse the wormholes... They don't want us Ascending... They don't want us learning more than we already know... but we know so much...”

“Okay, Daniel, you should be quiet now,” Sheppard said.

Daniel **snarled** at him, an all-too-human noise that sounded far worse than Rodney's sounds. “You don't understand... I remember... I wrapped myself around a wormhole and squeezed it shut... and They approved... I **killed** that way, Sheppard! I squeezed the wormhole shut and they died!”

Sheppard glanced at the two professors, hoping they'd take Daniel's words as little more than a madman's shrieking. Unfortunately that didn't seem to be the case.

“Yog-Sothoth is the gate... He takes offense... They want to keep the gates closed... we can't let Them, Sheppard... we have to keep the gates open! It's the only way... They don't want to share...”

“What is it They don't want to share?” Professor Randall asked. Sheppard glared at him.

“Ascension... I was Ascended... They want to keep it for Themselves... we can't let Them... every time we pass through an event horizon we defy Them... They have to be defied!”

Rodney slammed the book down, raised his head, and began to Sing.

Daniel went still, eyes wide before they drifted closed as he exhaled a long, slow breath. He swayed on his feet, falling to his knees on the cold hard floor, head lolling and hands limp.

Rodney darted forward, still Singing, a soft dulcet tone Sheppard had no idea Rodney could make. It made him sleepy, made him want to curl up in warm and wet and welcoming. He shook off the feeling even as Rodney crouched next to the delirious Daniel, pulled him into an embrace.

The Song continued even as Rodney began to purr, as Daniel leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him. His eyes closed, a small smile on his face, Daniel looked almost peaceful.

Sheppard sat down. “I think we might be done for the day,” he said.

Professors Randall and Abbot nodded. “That... might be a good idea,” Randall said. “Make sure Dr. Jackson gets... something...”

“A bottle of Jack might do it,” Abbot agreed.

“And... he probably shouldn't come back here,” Randall said.

“That might be safest,” Abbot said.

“I agree,” Sheppard said.

In the middle of the floor Rodney purred even as he Sang the Mother's Song, using it to drag Daniel back to some semblance of sanity. And perhaps to sleep.

*****

“What do you mean I can't go back?!”

Colonel Sheppard sat with his head in his hands. They were in the apartment's living room while Robert was out at the local grocer's. Across from Sheppard, trapped on the couch, Daniel ranted indignantly while Rodney laid on him like a giant cat.

Daniel tried to stand up only to be dragged back down, Rodney's tail wrapping around his waist. “This was my idea,” Daniel pleaded. “I was the one to suggest it! You can't keep me out of that library!” He kept struggling even as the tail grew bold in its bindings, as it was joined by questing paws.

“Daniel, you went insane,” Sheppard said, his voice long-suffering and tired.

“I did not!”

“You went on a tear about how the Ancients are trying to keep us from using the stargates,” Sheppard said. “You said you can **feel** Yog-Sothoth's plans. You remember collapsing a wormhole with people inside it! And you said this all in front of two academics with no clearance!”

“That's what you're so up in arms about? Clearance?! Really, Sheppard, you don't honestly think that little thing is gonna blow the whole program.”

“You're not going back there.”

“How dare you... Rodney, get off me!”

_No._

Daniel tried to get up or pull his arms out or something. Rodney held him tightly bound, arms legs and tail all used to keep the man physically subdued. Daniel's legs were held together in a way that made balance impossible, his arms were trapped at his sides, the bulk of Rodney's weight lay on his lap preventing him from even thinking of doing more than wiggling. Only his head and neck were free, his face twisted in righteous anger and indignant frustration.

“I mean it, Rodney, get off me!”

_Yanno... If I purr I bet I could vibrate your entire body._

Sheppard glared at Rodney even as Daniel's indignance gave way to blushing embarrassment. Daniel began to squirm in earnest.

“Daniel, the answer is still no.”

Daniel stopped moving, mouth agape at the unfairness of it all. “Why not?”

“You went insane,” Sheppard said, enunciating every syllable through clenched teeth. “You babbled on about knowing the plans of the Ancients, of Yog-Sothoth, and of who knows what else. Rodney had to Sing you back to sanity and I'm still not sure how he did that. Those books are **dangerous**. Especially to someone like you.”

“What do you mean 'like me'?!”

Sheppard searched for words to explain. Rodney murred softly, stepping into the conversation. _You've been Ascended. You know Their plans because you **were** Them. That puts you in a very delicate situation when reading the ramblings of madmen, because only you could know how close they came to the truth._

“Fairly close,” Daniel admitted.

_You see? The Necronomicon is especially dangerous. It's nothing but horrifying vistas of reality waiting to happen. It's more dangerous to you because you alone know what it means._

“But...”

_I've read some of your mission reports. You've died how many times? You've been Ascended, you were a Prior! You hallucinate a hunting horror for Hydra's sake. You've already seen those vistas first-hand. You don't need their meaning described to you._

Daniel slumped in defeat. “I...”

_You don't need to spend your life grovelling to a monstrous power._

Daniel snorted at that. He couldn't help it as defeated giggles spilled from his throat. They faded, leaving a slumped, tired man far to wrapped up in a Deep One for his own good.

_Feel better?_

Daniel nodded.

_Now then, just because you can't come to the Vault doesn't mean you can't be in the library._

“Rodney!” Sheppard snapped.

_No, no, Sheppard, he can be in the library. There are... artifacts... in the university's museum that might prove interesting. Their history might even be useful._

“I can do that,” Daniel whispered.

_Good. Now... um..._ Rodney shifted, trying to untangle himself. _Sheppard... I'm stuck..._

“Really,” Daniel said, deadpanned. “I hadn't noticed.”

_Shut up. Look, just help me out of this before--_

Two pairs of eyes went wide as Sheppard ignored the sound of the front door opening. Robert called down the hallway asking for help with bags. Footsteps came down the hall as Robert repeated his query without answer, finally reaching the living room.

Daniel and Rodney attempted to look innocent.

“I don't want to know,” Robert said, heading back outside. Sheppard followed him as he heard Rodney purr and the screaming that followed.

“Oh God, no! Don't do that! Please! Nooooo! That tickles! I can't--” Tortured, maddened, shrieking laughter followed Sheppard as he fled.

*****

The next day found Rodney and Sheppard back in the library.

Getting back in had been an ordeal worse than the day before. First of all, they weren't fooling anyone, necessitating both Professors Randall and Abbot to make excuses and look official. Second, getting Rodney past the Elder Signs had been more difficult as he now knew exactly how much it would hurt and adamantly refused to experience that again.

In the end Sheppard had threatened to carry him in, making good on that threat for a few steps despite the squealing and flailing. A few steps were all it took for Rodney to admit defeat and allow himself to be dragged up the steps to the dubious safety of the library itself.

The Vault was not empty today.

Sheppard pulled Rodney past the mosaic and its Elder Sign to find a balding man of indeterminate age discussing something in hushed tones with the librarian's assistant, Henry. That man turned large blue eyes that grew larger in shock and recognition even as Henry pinched the bridge of his nose to guard against the coming headache.

“Dr. Meredith McKay, this is Owen Gilman,” Henry said, almost monotonous in his lack of enthusiasm.

Owen bounded forward, eyes wide and grinning delightedly. “Dr. McKay, you have no idea what an honor it is to meet the Marsh family patriarch, I mean...” He looked unsure for a second at the robed and cloaked form before him. “Can I shake your hand? Do you still have hands? Oh this is so exciting!”

Rodney murred, a sound of confusion, fear of ambush, and a distinct 'What...'

“Oh, I'm so sorry, where are my manners!” Owen continued his babble, leaving Sheppard to wonder if the constant stream of words was somehow related to this man's visibly hybrid nature. “We all know who you are, your father started the Toronto and Boston branches of the Esoteric Order of Dagon! I'm so sorry about him, by the way, who'd have thought a man like him couldn't accept the gift offered to him? But you're wondering who I am, I'm sorry, my family came from Innsmouth in the late 'teens long before the raids, went into goldsmithing and custom jewelry. I'm studying metallurgy, it's my third year here and--”

“Owen!” Diana shouted.

“What?” Owen asked.

Sheppard shook the onslaught of words from his head. Well, that was certainly different from the distrustful whispering and the obvious pointing of the people outside.

Diana lightly fingered the cord of the necklace she wore. Owen drew back, teeth bared.

Rodney extracted himself from the young hybrid's exuberance and slithered into the inner vault. Owen followed, not taking the hint.

“How did you get him to shut up?” Sheppard asked.

Diana pulled the Elder Sign pendant out of her shirt. “Easy enough when they all know we have these.”

Sheppard had to agree but then a sudden snarl took precedent. He ran into the vault to rescue the kid.

*****

Owen sat in the outer vault, pouting and growling under his voice.

“Look, I know you mean well, kid,” Sheppard began.

“My name is Owen.”

“Owen. Look, Owen, Dr. McKay is not comfortable with anyone, no matter who or what, rushing him like that. You have to understand, in our line of work it's...”

“Where is that, anyway?” Owen asked. “I haven't been able to find mention anywhere.”

“And you won't. Our work is highly classified, as you might expect it to be considering he still works there.”

“Even after his Change?”

“Even after his Change,” Sheppard allowed. “It took some time for everyone to get used to him and for him to realize his fears were... All right, they weren't entirely unfounded. There are people out there with very high security clearances who work to keep people like him out of human endeavors. That's... partly why we're here.”

“Oh? Maybe I can help. I've found many things in the Vault.”

“I'm sure you have.” Sheppard's skepticism was palpable.

“No, he has,” Henry said.

Sheppard nodded, deciding to give the kid a chance. “Okay then. We're here searching for some method whereby Dr. McKay might be able to wear a human illusion.”

Owen raised one slightly webbed finger before dropping it, his face falling. “Wow,” he said. “I have no idea if that can even be done. I mean, it makes sense, but... wow... I mean, I've heard of one but...”

“You've heard of one?” Sheppard asked.

“Yeah, if you believe the stories that it's used by the lizard people who control the world government.”

Sheppard winced and tried not to roll his eyes.

“Of course, everybody knows the lizard people lost their foothold thanks to the gate travelers.”

“Gate... travelers...” Sheppard could feel the headache coming for him.

“Of course!” Owen launched into a tirade of conspiracy theories. “Back in the '20s a star gate was found in Egypt but the world government couldn't get it working until the '90s. Little did the lizard people know it would be their downfall when humanity started an interplanetary war with the mind-controlled worlds and dethroned the false gods!”

Sheppard felt ill.

“There's been space battles on the edge of our solar system and whole black ops shuttle missions and of course you know the real reason why the ISS feed keeps getting cut and--”

“Okay, shut up,” Sheppard said. He didn't want to know just how much of a security leak the SGC had or what conspiracy theories had been folded into their operations. “I don't need the background but... you've heard of a technique.”

Owen nodded.

“If you promise to behave...”

*****

_I can't believe you did this to me._

Sheppard smiled into his book. He was resolutely engrossing himself in the Dee copy of the _Necronomicon_ to avoid the death glare Rodney gave him as Owen sat too close and said too much and kept trying to touch his claws.

_I am going to get you back for this so hard, Sheppard._

“And then in the late 90s once the government got the gate working again they shut down Area 51 and sent all the alien artifacts to Cheyenne Mountain and a big facility under NORAD.”

_Who makes up these conspiracies anyway?! The timing's all wrong!_

Sheppard kept his laughter to himself as he thumbed through the pages. He found himself idly wondering who or what the Great Old Ones really were, given how many other gods and myths were based on real beings.

“Oh my god! I think I've seen that writing system before! Where did you learn it? Can I see? Awww, why can't I see?”

_How did the conspiracy theorists get ahold of Ancient anything?!_ Rodney snarled at Owen, warning him away from his notes.

“Owen, drop it,” Sheppard said.

_I hate you. Both of you. I'm getting a new Fata Monere when we get back._

“Better ask Teyla first,” Sheppard warned.

Rodney hissed at him.

Sheppard found a passage that interested him and began to read in earnest.

 


	15. An Unnerving Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't sign the Black Book, he says. Fine. But what if...

The museums at Miskatonic were easy enough to find. All Daniel had to do was look for the giant steel apatosaurus.

He'd read up on the museum. It was an older one, like so many of the Ivy League schools. The main building burned down in 1902, taking with it many of the artifacts from the original Orne excursions in the Caribbean. It was rebuilt by Mr. George Grewe, who's name now graced the natural history museum. The steel apatosaurus was an homage, named 'George' for its former curator, to a skeleton that was indefinitely on loan to some museum in Texas.

Daniel turned away from the steel skeleton to the Orne Museum of Anthropology and Ethnology, where his research told him he would find the local collection of Innsmouth jewelry. Also a Toltec head.

The doors opened without difficulty, though the lady at the front desk asked pointedly about the bundle of black silk he carried delicately in his hands.

Daniel laid the bundle on the desk and carefully unfolded it, revealing a splash of pale gold. “Yes, sorry, my name is Dr. Daniel Jackson. I'd heard the Orne Museum has a particularly fine collection of the so-called 'Innsmouth-Style' jewelry. I was hoping to compare pieces.”

“This is...” The lady at the desk reached out but couldn't bring herself to touch it.

“It belongs to a friend of mine.” It was true enough, Daniel had intended to offer it to Rodney before the trip back to Atlantis. “A... family piece...”

“Of course...” The lady's voice grew distant as she stared.

The piece was an armlet, a curling band that wrapped around the upper arm. It appeared to be made of a gold alloy, stronger and more resilient than gold, yet gently springing back into shape when deformed with the bare hand. Its patterns were twisting, feathered points that reminded Daniel of countless tiny fronds of fragile seaweed. Wrapped around the fronds were images, small man-like aquatic figures that darted in and out in relief, hiding among the fronds as they eternally chased each other down the curl of the armlet.

The fronds of the armlet gave it the distinct impression that it had no real edges, that the gold could potentially continue growing, or perhaps that it had been harvested. He ran a thumb along the false edge and fancied he could feel it give, like seaweed bending to the will of the current. He wondered what it would feel like to wear it...

“Dr. Jackson?”

“Hmm?” Daniel looked up, giving no indication that his thoughts had been anywhere odd.

An older woman stood before him, her hair dyed an atrocious bright red. “I'm Dr. Amanda Robinson,” she said. “I hear you're seeking information on Innsmouth jewelry.”

Daniel smiled at her, an easy smile to cover any oddity to his request. “Yes, Dr. Robinson, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He held the armlet out for her perusal. “This belongs to a friend, you see, and I was hoping to compare it to other known pieces of... the same strange origin, shall we say.”

Dr. Robinson nodded then flipped a corner of black silk over the gold with a faint shudder. Good, then she knew what this was.

“Come with me,” she said, leading him past open exhibits, airy chambers, dimly lit rooms, glass cases, and a troop of Girl Scouts on a tour.

His eyes darted everywhere, cataloging everything he could. The museum seemed to have a wide array of American Indian bones and artifacts, not a small amount on Caribbean Voodoo, and a detailed accounting of the witch trials of the Salem era. He would have to come back here if they had a day to spare.

Dr. Robinson led him through a corridor in the back of the museum, a corridor lined with enlarged photographs of Arkham and the surrounding area. “Down this corridor we have our exhibits on local culture. It's here we keep the artifacts all the Lovecraft tourists come to gawk at. Keziah Mason's sacrificial tools, the skeleton of Brown Jenkins, a sampling of Elder Signs, and of course the Innsmouth jewelry. As you can imagine, there are those who... disapprove of the exhibit.”

“I expect there would be those who disapprove no matter if or where you keep it,” Daniel said.

“Quite right, quite right.” She came to a doorway, a simple wood frame that looked like it once held a beaded curtain. She gestured for Daniel to go first.

The exhibit was at once neglected and sensationalized. Daniel couldn't help but frown even as he understood. The university was still trying to keep relevance in a world that no longer believed in stories, no matter what truth lurked behind those stories. In a glass case sat a misshapen sacrificial bowl and blade and several stone carvings of monsters listed as coming from 'unknown'. Above it, also behind glass, an articulated skeleton of a rat the size of a house cat, though the rat had a distinctly humanoid skull. Nearby were photographs from the Miskatonic Expedition to Antarctica, showing mountains he knew to be there, murals he himself had seen. More photographs of standing stones atop a dry and dead hill.

Ah, there. Also under glass, resting on purple velvet, sat several pieces of the Innsmouth style of jewelry. All were attributed to the town of Innsmouth with vaguely reported year and no explanation. A pectoral, two tiaras, an armlet, several bracelets, and other smaller pieces that seemed to be missing chains or parts.

He reached down, fingers stopped by the distrustful glass. “Is it possible to take one out and examine it?” Daniel asked, attempting to seem reasonable.

“I'm afraid not.”

Damn. Well, it was worth a try. He unfolded the armlet and laid it on the glass as close to its cousins as he could place it.

It was certainly similar in alloy, if not identical. But the subject, the skill, the themes...

Each piece of jewelry was entirely different, almost as though they represented pieces stolen from different sets.

The piece he held featured playful creatures darting in and out of seaweed, taunting the viewer, even... inviting...

But these...

The two tiaras were entirely different styles. One favored rough geometrical shapes in its designs, rhomboids and diamonds in odd sibilant curls perhaps as an abstraction of seaweeds, but the creatures in its design were shapeless, formless, unfinished. The other tiara favored simple twists of metal, corals reaching up like horns, while at the base little rows of squirming fish were added as an afterthought. It struck Daniel that these tiaras were almost slipshod, thrown together and shipped half-finished but why?

Was there a Deep One tourist trade? Or...

The gold refinery.

Oh...

The Deep Ones **knew** where their jewelry ended up. They knew better than to send their best work, no, these were likely made by apprentices or students or even just slapped together using slag metal.

The armlet certainly looked like pounded slag, at least compared to the one in Daniel's hands. It was a solid piece, forced into a shape with negative space forming the design. Either fine detail had worn away or it had never been there to begin with. Daniel had the oddest image of a Deep One apprentice justifying the simple squiggle design by calling it a water snake. Or maybe a worm.

The pectoral seemed to be a much older piece if the workmanship was anything to go by. Delicate gold braiding made to look like seaweed fronds almost fluttered from the lower edges of the piece, minute bubbles of gold drifting up in chains to hold it together. Tiny lines of creatures swam between the fronds, exhaling the bubbles for the chains even as they speared the fish in the design layered above them.

Or maybe it was much newer. Its card listed it as having been dredged in a fishing net in 1987.

The bracelets were a collection of styles, some being simple twists of gold while one looked like the finest string of golden bubbles. Another looked like a series of small fish each biting each other's tails to form a circle. This one struck him as particularly skilled, each scale was delicately carved and each fish had a different pattern of spots and stripes, even a different expression on each blank face.

“Find what you're looking for?” Dr. Robinson asked.

“Oh, somewhat,” Daniel admitted. “The selection here does seem to support a hypothesis I've heard. The Deep Ones knew their jewelry was going to be smelted so they tended to send up their mediocre pieces. Look, you can see a distinct difference in workmanship and effort between the tiaras, both pawned before 1920, and the pectoral, caught in a fishing net sixty years after the raid. The difference is more pronounced in the armlets, compare yours to mine.”

Dr. Robinson looked closely at each piece mentioned, suppressing a shudder as she did so. That shudder stopped and her eyes went wide as she realized. “My God, you're right. Oh, if only we had more we could make a study of it.”

“That would be something,” Daniel said.

“Would you be willing to loan yours for such a study, Dr. Jackson?”

Daniel sighed as he looked down at the armlet he held. “I'm afraid it's not mine to loan,” he said.

“Pity.”

*****

The front door opened and slammed shut while Daniel stood in the kitchen reading the back of a box. It was supposed to turn into food if he followed these directions but thus far it was... less than food...

Sheppard dropped himself down at the kitchen table as Rodney stalked by, leaving blue silks and a heavy cloak littered through the hallway before a door closed and water ran.

“Get anything done?” Daniel asked.

Sheppard glared up at him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Daniel shrugged. “The Deep Ones knew their jewelry was being melted down as soon as it hit the surface. So they kept all the good stuff for themselves, sent up slag discards and practice pieces. Also, they absolutely make jewelry for favored cultists. Unless you can see someone like Rodney in a necklace.”

Sheppard snorted. “He doesn't have a neck.”

“Exactly.”

Rodney hopped down the hallway, resolutely ignoring Sheppard as he grabbed a box of salt from the cupboard and left.

“What did you do?” Daniel asked.

Sheppard sat up straight as though he weren't exhausted. “I introduced Rodney to a local hybrid. Owen is a metallurgy student who's been spending all his free time this summer blasting his sanity in the Vault.” He slumped back down, head pillowed on his folded arms. “He's a conspiracy theorist. The internet knows about the SGC.”

“Wait, what?”

“Not in so many words,” Sheppard assured, sitting back up in a tired sprawl. “They think the problems with the Trust were 'world government lizard people'. But! They do have the 'interplanetary war against false gods' bit right. No details, though.”

Daniel snorted. “I bet Jack'll have a field day. No wait, I bet Jack already knows.”

Rodney hopped in, dripping wet. He opened the fridge and rummaged around, stopping only when he found what he wanted. He pulled out a red snapper, tore off its commercial packaging, stuffed it in his mouth, and started hopping back to the bathtub. He paused as he passed Sheppard, growling through the fish sticking halfway out of his mouth.

“Look, I said I was sorry,” Sheppard said. “Fine, you won't have to deal with Owen again. Okay?!”

Rodney took the fish out of his mouth and gestured with it, threatening Sheppard with it. _That's not why I'm pissed at you._

“What'd I do, then?” Sheppard asked.

Rodney snarled and slapped him. With the fish. _You fell asleep reading the Necronomicon! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?! You could have died! Worse, you could have signed the book!_

“I didn't sign the book,” Sheppard said, deadpanned. “Any book, black or otherwise.”

Rodney brandished the fish at Sheppard. _See that you don't._ He stuffed the fish back in his mouth and stalked off.

“He just slapped you with a fish,” Daniel said.

Sheppard glared at him.

Daniel went back to reading the instructions on the box. He stirred the pot on the stove even though it wasn't turning into food like the box promised. “Eventually you'll have to tell him,” he said.

“What?” Sheppard asked.

“You don't have to sign the Black Book. Your name's already there. So's mine. We all are. All of us.”

“I know,” Sheppard said, slumping down. “I dreamed it. He handed me the quill and I knew... I didn't sign, just flipped through the book to point out my name already there. And yours. And McKay, O'Neill, Carter, Zelenka... We're all in there, aren't we?”

“We put our names there when we signed the first NDA,” Daniel admitted. “We are seekers of knowledge, travelers of the Void, bringers of chaos, of course we're in the Black Book.”

A silence passed between them as the pot on the stove bubbled. Daniel poked its contents with his spoon.

“He called me 'Serpent of Quiddity',” Daniel said, revealing the name Nyarlathotep had once given him.

Sheppard nodded. “'Stormcrow of Feasting.'”

“It fits,” Daniel admitted.

Sheppard snorted.

Daniel tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot. The contents were still not food even though the box claimed it would be by now. “Pizza?” he suggested.

 


	16. A Monstrous Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was there ever a time when he was safe? Or is he safer now than he would be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be the darkest I get in this story. If I get worse than this, feel free to throw a boot at me.
> 
> The Black Man was Arkham's local avatar of Nyarlathotep. Lovecraft based this avatar off of the Black Devil of the Salem witch trials.

Rodney stood in an empty room.

It was the oddest thing he'd experienced in a long time.

The room had no windows, no doors. No method of entry or egress. “The last thing I remember...” he said to himself before stopping. He'd **heard** that...

He brought his hands to his face, his human hands to a human face. He looked down at himself, pale and pinkish brown and fuzzy in areas he barely even remembered. Also naked. He covered himself with his hands as he looked around the... empty room...

His hands dropped and he went back to examining everything. No scales, no webbing, not even skin plaques. Anger began to well up. What kind of cruel dream was this to taunt him with something he never even really had?

He was so busy running his hands all over himself he didn't even notice the table in the middle of the room until.

“Aaaaah!” Rodney shrieked when he saw the tall, thin man standing behind the table, a man seemingly made of living darkness.

“Oh no,” Rodney realized. He fell to his knees. “Please, no, don't do this, you don't want my soul, it's not very good, it's all tainted and I'm a horrible person and how about my first born? You can have that although I'll probably never breed and even if I do you wouldn't want it, it'll be as tainted as I am but please...”

The Black Man raised his hands and a book appeared on the table. It was an ancient book, bound in cracked leather as black as the Void. It flew open, pages rustling until it settled on a half-empty page.

“I wasn't reading the _Necronomicon_ , you want Sheppard for that, wait, no, you don't want him, he's no good either, but why!”

The Black Man stared, silent and immutable.

Rodney shrank back from the Black Man's gaze, or tried to as one black hand raised. Rodney fought against his own body as he was dragged by nothing to the table, his wrists slammed down on the table. A quill appeared in his left hand.

“Of course he wants me to sign it left handed,” Rodney muttered. It made sense. Still he kept his hands where they were, laying on the table. Maybe if he didn't cooperate enough the Black Man would get frustrated and leave? Or more likely he'd be given a human-faced little rat-thing as a familiar and it would bite him until he complied. Maybe it would kill him and he'd escape to the next life with what remained of his tainted soul, if there was a next life.

“Why?” Rodney asked, daring to look up at the Black Man's blank Void eyes.

The Black Man pointed to the book.

Rodney looked at the book's open page. There were names here, names he didn't recognize. People from all over the world who delved too deeply into unnatural things and wait a minute... “Why am I here?” Rodney demanded.

The Black Man smiled. _You don't know, do you?_

Rodney flinched at the feeling of words tickling the back of his mind, words that weren't his own. He wondered idly if this is what the others felt when he thought his speech to them.

_The Deep One pretending to be human. Searching for a Song to make you look like them. Soon you'll want to become like them. Frail. Limited._

_Mortal._

“Mortal?” Rodney asked. A chill went down his spine.

_All in the band of the faithful, the Order of Dagon, and the children should never die but go back to the Mother Hydra and Father Dagon what we all came from once._

Rodney flinched to hear Obed Marsh's own words thrown at him. Still, the thought had never occurred to him before. If the Vows of Dagon were true then... “I'll never die,” he realized. “But everyone else...” A sudden wave of absolute terror washed over him. “I'll be alone! I'll have to watch them all die one by one! I can't do it! I can't...” His head fell into the dubious softness of the Black Book.

“I can't leave my Nest...”

_Then don't._

Rodney glared up at the Black Man. “Easy for you to say, you want to take me from them! You want to spirit me away for some nefarious purpose. I didn't escape sacrifice, I just moved who benefits, didn't I!”

A long black finger pointed at the book.

Rodney sat back, even with his arms still held on the table, and dared the Black Man to do his worst.

Pointed teeth as shining as the Void bared in a grin as Rodney began to scream.

*****

The Black Book still lay on the table as Rodney dragged his broken body to it. He sullenly picked up the quill with his left hand, dipped the nib in one of the many rivulets of blood that ran down his body. He leveled angry, defiant eyes on the Black Man before touching the quill nib to the page.

It... wouldn't leave a mark...

Rodney stared down at the page, a sinking feeling in his heart. He flipped back in the book, looking for what he knew had to be there, what he wished with all his being he wouldn't find.

There.

In his own neat handwriting, dotted with brown drips of his own dried blood. His name.

He'd already signed the Black Book. But when?

“No,” he whispered, begging, pleading that he wouldn't find...

“No nononononono...” He found them all, one by one, their names signed in their own hand. Daniel Jackson. Radek Zelenka. Peter Kavanagh. Miko Kusanagi. Samantha Carter. Bill Lee. Jonas Quinn. Peter Grodin. Aiden Ford. Laura Cadman. Jack O'Neill.

John Sheppard. Steven Caldwell. Elizabeth Weir.

Jeannie Miller.

All of them.

Rodney slammed the book closed. “WHY?!” he screamed. Pain and blood were forgotten as he shot to his feet to demand answers from the Black Man, from Nyarlathotep.

_You are a seeker of knowledge, looking to reduce the vastness of the multiverse to its single equation. You grow the angles whereby your ships traverse the Void. Your footsteps start wars, end conflicts, destroy entire races. You have paid for your sorcery in the blood of your own Nest as you watch them age and die, in the blood of a galaxy as you wake the Wraith and ally with them, in the blood of your kin by bringing her to me._

Rodney's fury could only get him so far. He collapsed on the floor of the empty room, sobbing openly. “Why... am I here...” If the Black Man **knew** his name was already in the book then why was he here? Why other than torture as the man, the monster, the god detailed his failings and predicted the deaths of everyone he knew and loved?

_I am not a cruel master._

Rodney fixed him with an unbelieving glare.

_What would you give to be human again?_

Want rushed through Rodney followed by a deep shame that he would crave such a thing from such a monster. “Nothing. No deal.”

_Then accept what you are, my little Song of Terror._

Pain frissoned through his body, twisting and clawing at his insides. Rodney screamed as the Black Man laughed, as his body shifted and changed. Hands became paws, skin grew grey and scaly, his spine lengthened even as his neck fused and gills burst forth. And then as suddenly as it started it stopped.

The Deep One crouched there on the floor of the empty room. The table and the book were gone, leaving only the Black Man in his robes of Void. Rodney looked up at him and bleated.

The Black Man reached down to pet Rodney's head in a mockery of affection, smiling as the Deep One began to purr.

*****

Rodney startled awake.

His eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to find the book or the Black Man. Instead he saw frilly curtains around a tiny window, fluffy mismatched towels hanging on a rod, a light green fuzzy bathmat clashing horrendously with the variously blue colors of the tiled floor, a wood paneled door closed with a bathrobe hook hanging empty.

He wasn't in a room with no windows or doors. He was in an uncomfortable ceramic claw-foot tub, salted water lapping at his sides.

Rodney sighed in relief as he sat crouched in the water, his tail curled around himself. He was safe. He wasn't...

He ached all over. His muscles felt freshly stretched, his bones recently altered. The stories always said that injuries felt when facing the Black Man in dreams...

No, no he wasn't going to think about it.

Rodney crawled out of the tub. He wasn't going to think about what he'd just seen, about his name in the book, his friends' names, his **sister's**...

He'd been the one to convince her... He put her name there...

Rodney snarled into the night. A faint pounding at the wall answered him.

He couldn't just sit here and brood, he had to do something. He had to... to... do something...

He opened the bathroom door and proceeded to stalk around the apartment.

It had three bedrooms, each about the size of a single room in a dormitory. One door was closed, he knew that one to be Robert's and therefore uninteresting. One was Sheppard's and Rodney stopped outside that door.

What if Sheppard didn't know? Worse, what if he did? The man had fallen asleep face-first in the book the day before, whining pitifully as he dreamed. The professors had refused to disturb him, fear visible on their faces as they held Rodney back. They'd gone to far as to try to hold his mouth shut to keep him quiet, as through he needed it to Sing. And then Sheppard had woken up. He'd been disoriented, a grimly determined look on his face, pain in his eyes, before seeing Rodney and relaxing. Then he'd held his hand to his wrist, wiping away...

Blood...

Rodney slunk past Sheppard's room.

Sheppard knew about the book, he knew what was in it. Rodney couldn't bother him with this.

But the third bedroom...

Daniel's door was ajar, for what fear would he have of monsters? Rodney slunk through the open door, across the floor, and up to the bed.

Daniel was asleep. Rodney watched the sleeping form, envied how easily he slept without nightmare or nocturnal visits by elder gods. And the bed itself was also unfair. Here he was, stuck sleeping in the bathtub like a smuggled alligator while the humans were sleeping in big soft beds nowhere near as small as the standard issue on Atlantis. Warm beds with covers and quilts and pillows. Feather pillows...

Rodney climbed up onto the bed, pausing only when Daniel grunted and rolled over to give him more room. Rodney purred as he pulled up the covers and wiggled under them, nuzzling his pillow and kicking at the covers to make them more comfortable.

He lay on his belly, eyes falling closed as his tail dangled off the end of the bed.

He awoke to the feeling of someone staring at him. One eye slid open to find Daniel propped up in bed blinking blearily at him.

“You're in my bed,” Daniel said.

Rodney purred. _Um, yes?_

“Any... reason?”

The purr faded. _Yes, yes there is._ He left it at that, silently pleading for Daniel to do the same.

The plea must have worked. Or maybe it hadn't been silent. “Fair enough,” Daniel said. He laid back down and pulled the covers over himself. “Don't stay too long, otherwise people will talk.”

Rodney huffed. _Talk about what? Why would they... Oh..._

“Yeah, that,” Daniel said.

Rodney got a lovely wicked idea. _After that nuzzle in the infirmary I think they already talk..._

“Hmm...”

Rodney laid his head on Daniel's neck, purring softly. He could feel the human tense then relax. _Maybe we could... try that again..._

Daniel rolled onto his back, looking up at the Deep One that crouched over him, teeth bared. “Really?” Daniel purred. “Well... what if we go too far?”

Rodney lowered his head to nudge his snout against Daniel's cheek. _That depends... on what 'too far' means..._

Daniel closed his eyes and leaned up into the nuzzle. “I don't know,” he murmured. “I could go... pretty far...”

Rodney pulled the covers down to find Daniel slept in the nude. His purr deepened, his tail slowly waving from side to side.

Daniel smiled, somehow wicked and demure as he slid his hands up the sides of Rodney's gill plates to ghost his fingers down the base of dorsal spines.

_Let's see... how far we can go..._

*****

The smell of coffee lulled him out of bed. Rodney followed the scent, lips pulled back as he tasted the scent on the air, following it to the kitchen.

Followed it to a lie.

Robert, their 'local guide' had made a pot of coffee and he was nursing the entire thing like an oddly shaped mug. He fixed Rodney with a seething glare.

That glare grew worse, evolving into a full-on stink eye as Daniel stumbled in, wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts that did nothing to hide the reddened scratches all over his chest and back, the bite mark on the back of his neck. “'Morning,” Daniel said, yawning. “Is that...” He looked at the coffee maker, expecting to find the pot there. Instead he glared at the man at the table.

Robert's stink eye faltered into something related to disgust. “How... how **dare** you...”

“How dare I?” Daniel asked. “How dare you? We all use that coffee pot, you know.”

Robert slammed the coffee pot down on the table, standing up to go on a rant when Sheppard walked in, yawning loudly.

“I slept reeeeeally good,” Sheppard said, with exaggerated movements and contentedness. “Especially this morning.”

Robert's rant fell as he stormed out of the apartment. His screams drifted through the door.

“Now that that's taken care of...” Sheppard turned to Daniel and Rodney. “Really?!”

“What?” Daniel asked, not even trying for innocent. He raised a hand to his neck, hissing at the raw bite wound there.

 _Here, let me._ Rodney purred as he licked the marks he'd left on Daniel's neck. Daniel relaxed, eyes falling closed with a sigh.

“You're not taking him home,” Sheppard warned.

_I know._

“Deep Ones are...” Daniel groaned as Rodney laid his purring neck on his shoulder. “...are non-monogamous... Oh yeah... right there... they don't pair-bond...”

_I can have fun... Especially with one so willing..._

Daniel hummed and draped his arms over Rodney's shoulders.

Sheppard sighed, grabbing the coffee pot to wash it and make a proper pot as he resolutely ignored the noises behind him.

 


	17. A Short Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile in the SGC...

Sam Carter put the book down and took a long pull from her beer. Or tried to, at some point she'd finished it. Bah.

The 'ksssh' of a bottle opener caught her attention. She looked up in surprise, she hadn't noticed anyone else was here.

The recreational library was rarely this empty. Usually three or five people could be seen in here, spending their off hours with books or in conversation, or even just napping in a familiar setting. Books tended to pile on reading tables, chairs, and in haphazard order on the bookshelves as restocking was done on the honor-system or by Dr. Lee when his need to accomplish something reared its head.

Sam sat in one of the comfy chairs, her feet propped up on a table, an empty beer bottle sitting on the floor next to her. She held another empty in her hand and a replacement was held out to her by someone she hadn't entirely expected.

“Mrs. Miller? I didn't hear you come in.”

Jeannie waved the beer impatiently, the universal sign of 'take this now or I'm drinking it'. “You were engrossed,” Jeannie explained. “What're you reading anyway?”

Sam suddenly realized her book might be taken as an insult. Still, she sheepishly held up the library's copy of _The Shadow Over Innsmouth_.

Jeannie's expression went carefully neutral. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “'Oh.' I'd never read it before.” She put the book on the table and took the offered beer. “Thanks.”

Jeannie nodded, popping open one for herself. She stood around looking uncomfortable.

“Sit down,” Sam offered.

Jeannie sighed and took a seat, sitting sideways in a way that reminded Sam of the way Rodney had taken to sitting before she left Atlantis.

“If it makes you feel better, I haven't read it either,” Jeannie admitted. “I never wanted to. When I was... when I thought it was all just a story I didn't want to get dragged into Dad's crazy. Now, I dunno, I just can't.”

“It's not very flattering,” Sam said. “To any side. It doesn't do a thing to hide the actions of the raid and the only reasons they give are 'because monsters' and 'because racism'. The hybrids are described as sly, sullen, secretive things, when really it makes perfect sense considering what the humans do to them. The Deep Ones themselves are described as basically animals, completely incongruous to the art and architecture openly attributed to them. And forgiving: the unknowing hybrid who caused all that devastation, who directly led to the deaths of hundreds if not thousands, it's implied he's welcomed home with open arms. The book even says...” Sam picked up the book so she could read the exact line aloud. “'For bringing the upper-earth men's death I must do a penance, but that would not be heavy'. The only reason to side with the humans in this is some vague threat of a Deep One plan to take over a larger city and that feels, I dunno, tacked on by the author.”

Jeannie nodded thoughtfully. “John told me Meredith didn't do well while looking at the Delta Green files,” she said. “He kept saying how all they wanted was to be left alone. They were just trying to live their lives and one idiot did this.” She gestured vaguely toward the book on the table.

Sam's gaze followed the gesture to the book and its stereotypical horror elements plastered all over the cover. “It's difficult to blame him for keeping this a secret,” Sam admitted. “I would've too.” She took a pull from her beer.

“I wanted to,” Jeannie admitted. “I wanted to keep it from Kaleb and Madison. But I couldn't. What if Maddie started changing and she didn't know what it was? And I couldn't lie to Kaleb, not when we were talking about having another child. Now he's taking Madison to swimming lessons and talking about taking a job on the coast. He even asked me once if I'd ever thought of what it would feel like to swim like that.” Jeannie shuddered. “I don't want to think of it.”

“He buys your daughter gummy worms even though they're not vegan,” Sam said. The thought still amused her on some level.

Jeannie gave Sam a glare. “You know, I hadn't realized the connection until I met you. At least it's not Swedish Fish.”

Sam made a face.

Jeannie sighed wistfully. “You know what I miss the most about going vegan? Sushi. Especially those little salmon eggs. Any size eggs would do from the iddy biddy ones freshly laid to the big fat ones. They make the best little pop when you bite down on them and they taste just so... What?”

Sam was wrinkling her nose in a distinct expression of mild 'eeew'. “I could never get past the whole raw meat thing,” she admitted.

“My dear, you haven't lived.”

Both Sam and Jeannie turned toward the new voice. “Hello Vala,” Sam said.

“Wait, how did you...” Jeannie wondered.

“I followed you,” Vala said, as though it answered everything.

“But the door's closed,” Jeannie protested, pointing at the door. “No one's been in here! I checked.”

Vala grinned easily.

Sam patted Jeannie's arm. “Let it be,” she said.

Jeannie pouted.

“I've tasted your 'salmon eggs', I believe,” Vala said. “One of the Earth ceremonies I was supposed to behave at. They tasted of despair and decadence.”

Jeannie looked as confused as she felt. “How does something taste of despair?”

Sam took a swig of her beer. “Better not to ask.”

“Indeed,” Vala agreed.

“So... what brings you here?” Sam asked.

“Teal'c sent a message,” Vala said, sprawling out in a comfy chair like she owned it. “His obligations will keep him out longer than he thought. Personally, I think he has a woman he's unwilling to leave.”

“Well, he picked a good time for it,” Sam admitted. “No world ending invasions or imminent doom.”

“I don't count?” Jeannie asked.

“Of course not, dear,” Vala said. “Unless... Are you planning to take over the world? Can I help?”

“Vala!” Sam scolded.

“No,” Jeannie insisted, eyes wide. “And no! No to both. Neither.”

“Awww, pity,” Vala said, pouting.

“Don't tease, Vala,” Sam warned.

Vala gave Sam a haughty look of false disdain, wiggling slightly to emphasize her lack of seriousness.

“Actually, I was wondering...” Jeannie picked at the label on her beer bottle as she spoke. “When might I be allowed to go home.”

Sam looked at the book, suddenly uncomfortable. She could feel two pairs of expectant eyes on her. “Did you talk to General Landry?” she asked.

Jeannie nodded. “He said to talk to you.”

Sam hadn't heard any specific orders, but there was one thing... “Your brother's scheduled to be back here in two days,” Sam admitted. “Did you want to wait until then? I have no idea when he'll be allowed back on Earth.”

Jeannie shrugged. “I'd like to know that I can go home.”

“You can,” Sam assured.

“Yeah but when?” Jeannie demanded. “I haven't heard a single clear word out of anyone on that! It's always 'soon' or 'later'! Why am I even here? It's been days of looking over files and talking to that shrink and, and yesterday they made me go swimming!”

“Oh I saw that,” Vala said, sounding properly distressed. “That suit they had you wearing. Oh, my dear, it was dreadfully unflattering.”

“That's why I **chose** that one,” Jeannie snapped.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Jeannie growled at Vala.

“Enough,” Sam said.

“I hate swimming in front of people,” Jeannie whined. “Someone's always telling me I'm doing it wrong.” She pouted, arms crossed.

Sam nodded. “To be fair, you do maintain some non-human elements in your technique,” she admitted. “Very few people tend to use their entire spine to initiate a smooth undulating motion. Most people use their knees, or their hips if they're trained.”

“See?!” Jeannie said, gesturing at Sam.

“I didn't say you swim wrong,” Sam said, carefully neutral. “I said you swim like your brother.”

“Ah, the creature Meredith,” Vala said. “I haven't seen him in the water. I have no doubt that he swims with uncommon grace.”

“Well yeah, that's what he does,” Jeannie said.

“And if the source of that grace is something you also possess, wouldn't that mean those who disagree with your technique are objectively wrong?”

Sam looked at Vala with surprise before nodding in agreement.

Jeannie kept pouting, though it grew less vitriolic as Vala's words processed.

“You see technique like that pop up in the competitive circuit from time to time,” Sam said. “Especially the more demanding styles like the butterfly. I hear it's one of the more difficult techniques to learn. And you manage it naturally.”

Jeannie grumbled but she wasn't pouting anymore.

Sam sat back and took a swig of beer to hide the smirk. Jeannie had the typical McKay ego and it responded to stroking just as well as her brother's.

“Okay, what do you want,” Jeannie demanded sullenly.

Or... maybe it didn't respond quite so well. “Hmm?” Sam asked.

“Look, I grew up with Dad and Mer, I know ego-stroking and manipulation when I see it, what do you want from me now?”

Sam ignored the smirk from Vala, instead chose to sigh. “There's someone I hoped you'd agree to talk to.”

“Not another shrink,” Jeannie groaned.

“No, not a shrink,” Sam promised. “Corporal Jacob Evans.”

“Your hybrid on level 8?”

Sam nodded. “He doesn't know. At least, I don't think he knows. I want you to be the one to tell him, hybrid to hybrid.”

“Me? Why me?”

“His mother took to the water when he was 12. She never came back, she never told him, never explained anything, just... left. Maybe she was hoping the dreams would be enough of an introduction but...”

“But that's not an option for him anymore,” Jeannie realized. “Have his dreams begun?”

“That's something we'd like you to find out.”

“And if they have? If his Change really is coming? What then?”

Sam shrugged. “That's up to him, whether he wants to continue here, to petition for early discharge, or...”

“'Or'?” Jeannie demanded.

Sam smiled easily. “There's always transfer to Atlantis.”

*****

It wasn't the interrogation room this time, it was a small conference room on level 18. Jeannie sat with a laptop on the table, waiting for her... appointment.

He entered promptly. She introduced herself and directed him to a seat.

Then the questions began.

“So you're a civilian contractor,” Evans said. “Hows that work for you?”

Jeannie shrugged. “It's okay,” she admitted. “It pays well. I just occasionally spend three to four months away from my family.”

“You have one?” Evans asked, surprised.

“Yes, a husband and a daughter.” Jeannie took a deep breath. “My father had the same genetic condition as your mother. I'm a known carrier. My brother... also has it and he's expressed it fully.”

“You heard about that,” Evans said quietly.

“It's... partly why I'm here. That and wormhole physics.”

Evans nodded uncomfortably. “Your dad, did he, um, did he commit...”

“Suicide,” Jeannie said. “Yeah. He shot himself before the condition could fully run its course. His death drove my mother insane. Literally, institution-insane. It's not an easy condition to live with. I didn't find out I was a carrier until a few months ago and now my daughter is showing symptoms.”

“I'm sorry,” Evans said. “Your brother?”

Jeannie smiled. “He's... fine, actually. There's something about this... condition that makes it different from any disease you've ever heard of. I mean, it starts with dreams.”

“That's good,” Evans said. He paused, looking confused. “Dreams?”

Jeannie nodded. “Dreams. Typically they involve diving into the ocean to meet family members who've gone before but they've been changed into... monsters, essentially. The dreams come with the realization that you're a monster just like they are. They can start any time, starting in childhood all the way to, well, to right before the Change.”

“The 'Change'.”

“That's... what I've heard it called.” Jeannie opened the laptop and turned it toward him. “This is something called a Deep One.”

On the screen were pictures of Rodney in various states. One showed him galloping on all fours down a hallway, one was him stretched up to reach something near a ceiling, one was of him sprawled out next to a gym pool, and one was a video taken by Dr. Lam when she unsuccessfully tried to stick a camera down his throat to get a good look at his gill struts. All these pictures bore the unmistakable backgrounds of the SGC itself.

“I've heard that thing was around,” Evans admitted.

“That's what the Change looks like when it's done,” Jeannie said, allowing a distinct pause. “That's my brother. That's... what my father would have looked like.”

“How is that...”

“I don't know how Deep Ones are able to interbreed with us but they can and do,” Jeannie said. “They're native to Earth, perhaps moreso than we are. And they're smart, incredibly smart.” She brought up new pictures, these of jewelry Delta Green seized during the raids. Beautiful gold pieces, the most exquisite kept by the Marsh family while the rest went to the refinery. “Deep Ones made these and we still don't know how. Some sort of cold smelting, or maybe using undersea volcanic vents, or no one knows. But... it's art. There's no purpose to making jewelry other than as art or for economics. But either one...”

“These things are here, on Earth,” Evans said, staring at the screen.

Jeannie nodded.

Evans sat back in his chair, sighing and lost in thought. Jeannie waited patiently, flipping through the various photos and videos she had available for this purpose. Sam Carter had spared no CCTV connection in getting her base surveillance. Many frames were poor quality, looking more like a photo of bigfoot than her brother, but others... She snickered at one, a video of Rodney throwing her in the gym pool. She watched as the video her climbed out of the pool, was essentially laid on, shoved Rodney in, got dragged down along with, and then they wrestled each other, each trying for the headlock. She remembered that scuffle; she'd snorted a nose-full of chlorine and used Rodney's willingness to pause for her comfort to dunk him.

Evans looked at her oddly until she showed him the video. It was embarrassing but if it helped...

He gave her an oddly amused look. “That... definitely seems like a brother,” he admitted.

“My older brother,” she said. “He never told me he was joining the SGC, just sort of disappeared. Right off the map. When I saw him again the Change had already started. I couldn't understand why he didn't just see a doctor until he told me and... well... I didn't take it well.”

“You seem okay with it now,” Evans said.

“I've had time to get used to it.”

Evans sighed, seeming to gather courage. “And your... Change... has there been any...”

Jeannie shook her head. “Only little things, things I've always had but never connected. I've been told my Change is 'stunted', that it'll likely never happen.”

“But if it did... what would you do?”

“If it did?” Jeannie thought about it. She'd never considered. “I'm not sure. I know what I'd probably do, hide. But once I got used to it... I'd get to Atlantis.”

“Atlantis?”

Jeannie nodded. “I've been cleared to tell you this much. The SGC has an expedition in the Pegasus Galaxy, on the Ancient city of Atlantis. The city floats on an ocean, there are flooded corridors, my brother is the head of the science department. Even as he is now he still keeps that title. If I had to Change, that's where I'd go.”

Evans nodded, finally putting his hands on the table. Webbing reached up halfway to the first knuckle.

“When did this start?” Jeannie asked. She didn't look shocked at his hands, not overly interested, not disgusted. They simply were.

“Not long ago,” Evans admitted. “I had the dreams off and on since high school but the past couple of weeks it's been every night. And now this...”

“I'd put in for a transfer,” Jeannie said, nearly blurted. “Atlantis isn't easy, I mean, things go wrong every other day and there's horrible enemies and the friends aren't always much better, but... you wouldn't have to worry about people finding out. And you wouldn't be alone.”

Jacob Evans stood up. “I'll think about it,” he said before leaving.

Jeannie sank down in the chair and sighed. That had been... utterly draining and she had no idea why.

 


	18. An Inspired Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares can be most inspiring.

“What do you mean no?!” Sheppard demanded.

Rodney growled at him, refusing to move from the hallway. _I'm not going back to the library._

Sheppard held back his own growl. “Look, McKay, we're here for you to find that stupid spell, we haven't found anything, and our beam-out on the _Apollo_ is tomorrow night.”

_**You** haven't found anything._

“Oh and you have?”

_I might have. I need to test it and I can't do that in the library!_

“McKay...” Sheppard warned.

Rodney drew himself up to his full height and flared his gill plates, hissing as his dorsal spines rose. He was not backing down.

“You know what, fine.” Sheppard threw up his hands in defeat. “Do whatever.” He stormed out of the apartment, slamming the front door on the way.

“That... could have gone better,” Daniel said, sticking his head out of his bedroom.

_You heard that, hmm?_

“I think the entire block heard that. Well, not your part, I hope.”

_I'm getting better at it._

“And we're all grateful,” Daniel said, solemnly.

_So what about you? Are you staying here today?_

“Well, I can't go to the library so I was going to head back to the museums. See if there was anything I missed.”

Rodney murred. _But if I get this right... how will I tell?_

Daniel shrugged. “A mirror? What's your plan?”

_I got an idea last night. After... well, technically during the dream. I have a Song and I can already use it to affect what people experience. I mean, you're hearing me._

“Yes, but I hear you in my head,” Daniel said. “Like an echo in the back of my own mind. I could probably ignore you if I wanted to.”

_Yes but you could ignore a voice or a weird smell or... or that spider right there._

“Wait, what?” Daniel's eyes darted around for the spider. He jolted and shrieked when he found it, a large black-brown spider dangling not three inches in front of his face. He took a large step back before scowling. “Get me a drinking glass. Or a giant shoe.”

_My point stands._ Rodney hopped to the kitchen regardless, returning with a large drinking glass and a page of junk mail.

Daniel scowled all the while he caught and tossed the spider outside. “You honestly think you can Sing yourself a disguise?”

_A Veil, yes. I think I can. It won't be perfect but it's better than that other one I found, where I eat a dead body to gain its form._

“Because then you wouldn't look like yourself,” Daniel realized, nodding.

_Still thinking of leaving?_

“Yes, Rodney, I'm still heading to the museum.”

Rodney huffed and slithered back into the bathroom. He growled before returning to the kitchen to steal the salt. _Bastard John... drained my tub... this isn't Atlantis... I can't just ask for seawater... how dare he..._

Daniel chuckled to himself as he finished getting ready. He left as the sound of water began.

*****

Rodney lay in the bathtub, cold saltwater clinging to his scales. He was a Deep One and he could Sing. The ability to Sing was common but not a given among Deep Ones, a fact that the books had told him, a fact that had surprised him. He couldn't imagine his life without his Song, unable to communicate with his Nest.

Or maybe the books were wrong. They were written by humans, after all.

Either way, that ability to Sing meant he had options.

When Daniel had gone mad he Sang to calm the raging, to keep Daniel from saying anything else sensitive or stupid. He Sang about quiet, about sleep, about calm and curling up and purring. It was Mother's Song.

This would not be so simple.

First he would have to remember what he once looked like.

Rodney crawled out of the tub, heedless of wet footprints on the tile, and gazed in the bathroom mirror.

He had the same blue eyes as before.

Rodney focused on those eyes and began to Sing.

He Sang a wordless, soundless, thoughtless tune about pale skin, red-blonde hair, hands and feet, about a flat snout with a nose, square teeth, ears, about clothing and shoes, fingers and toes. Eyes fell closed as he Sang, putting an image in his mind of what exactly he wanted to see. What he expected to see. What others would see.

It would be a mask, a disguise, a lie. It would be a Veil.

And it would be his.

He opened his eyes.

Nothing.

Rodney sighed as he saw no change in the mirror. Still, his mind felt occupied, as though he were concentrating on something. But what?

He ignored the feeling, shifted it to the back of his mind where it could nibble on his thoughts in peace. Maybe some TV would help.

Rodney stalked to the living room, pausing in the kitchen for some junk food. He flipped the TV on, searching for something suitably weird and mindless.

It was hours before the front door opened. Rodney sat up, mind swimming in the haze of a half-sleep and the odd sensation of intense concentration. It was getting worse, slowly growing over time. Maybe it was the beginning of a migraine. Maybe he just needed coffee.

Daniel came into the living room. “Rodney, you'd better not be...” He trailed off as he stared at the blue-eyed man on the couch. He wore grey BDU pants and a blank blue t-shirt.

“What?”

Daniel blinked as he groped behind him for a chair or something. He found the coffee table, sitting heavily on it. “Rodney...”

“Daniel... what's wrong?”

“I think it worked,” Daniel whispered.

“No it didn't.”

Daniel nodded his head. “Yes it did. Check the mirror.”

The man on the couch rolled his eyes, got up, and checked the mirror. “Didn't work,” he called. “I still look like me.”

Daniel nodded. Rodney did indeed look like himself. He looked like he had all those years ago when they'd first met.

“You look like a human,” Daniel said slowly. “Like you used to.”

The human Rodney stuck his head out of the bathroom to give him an incredulous glare. “Yeah, right, the mirror says you're wrong.”

Daniel got up on wobbly legs and followed Rodney to the bathroom. “Huh.” There in the mirror stood a human and a Deep One. “Maybe it doesn't work on mirrors?” Daniel supplied.

Rodney glared at him. “More likely you're fucking with me. I wouldn't have thought you'd stoop so low as to--” He stopped, panic shooting across his eyes as the front door opened.

Robert walked in. He gave Daniel a glare as he passed but stopped as he saw Rodney. “Who are you?” he asked.

Rodney's gaze darted between Daniel and Robert. The beginnings of understanding flashed across his face before it was squashed by its previous disdain. “You know who I am,” he accused.

“If I did I wouldn't ask,” Robert said, unimpressed.

“Wait... you heard me...”

“Of course I heard you,” Robert snapped. “Why wouldn't I?”

Rodney backed away, panic warring with triumph. He'd done it. He'd done it!

Now could he undo it? And why didn't the mirror work?

A headache blossomed in Rodney's head as the strain of concentrating grew intense. He let go.

Robert shrieked as the Veil dropped and the human form faded, melting away like flowing water.

Rodney gasped at the exertion. _It... really worked..._

“I'd say it did,” Daniel said, laying a comforting hand on Rodney's shoulder. “Perhaps now we need to work on your endurance.”

Rodney nodded, hissing softly.

“I hope the corpse of the guy you stole that form from isn't gonna wash up in the river,” Robert snapped.

Rodney started to purr as he limped, exhausted, to the bathtub. He crawled in, heedless of the splash.

“You hear me, no corpses!” Robert shouted.

An answering thump and a faint 'shut up' sounded from the other side of the wall.

Rodney purred as he let himself fall asleep.

*****

That night found Rodney, Daniel, and Sheppard sprawled out in the living room with takeout boxes of Chinese food everywhere. Sheppard sat on a chair with his feet up on the coffee table, a carton of kung pow in one hand and a fork in the other. Daniel sat on the floor with his back resting against the couch, his sweet and sour chicken in hand, chopsticks sticking out of the container while he fished with his free hand for a fortune cookie. Rodney sprawled over the entire couch, snout-down in a box of chow mein noodles.

“No more library,” Daniel said. “Not tonight, not tomorrow. We're done. We need to figure out how we're getting out of here.”

“Did we get what we came for?” Sheppard asked.

_As a matter of fact... we did..._

Sheppard stared at Rodney as he rooted around the inside of the chow mein box, pawing at it like he was stuck. “Well?” he asked. “Do tell. You can't just leave a guy hanging like that.”

Rodney tore the empty box from his snout. _Okay... give me a minute..._

He sat up on the couch and began to Sing again, focusing on all that he used to be, that he used to have. A feeling of pressure bloomed between his eyes as he heard gasps around him, as the Veil went up around him.

A very human Rodney McKay sat on the couch, still wearing BDU pants and a science department blank t-shirt. He looked a little younger than he had been before the Change, or perhaps that was the illusion caused by a full head of strawberry blond hair. He breathed deeply, slowly, stared at his own human-looking hands. “How's that?” he asked with a finesse he did not feel.

“Holy shit, Rodney, how did you do that?” Sheppard whispered.

“It's a Song,” Rodney said, still breathing heavily through the pain. “I'm making you see what I want you to see, that's all. And hear what I want you to hear. It's... not easy.”

“It worked on Robert earlier,” Daniel said.

“But not the mirror,” Rodney said. “I still look like me in the mirror.”

“You look like you now,” Sheppard said.

Rodney visibly winced. “I look like a human.”

“Well, yeah, like you.”

Rodney shook his head as the Song faltered. He gripped his head, trying to Sing through the pain. “Ow...”

“You okay?” Daniel asked.

“Hurts...”

“Then let it drop,” Daniel said.

Rodney took a deep breath and let go. The illusion fell away, flowing off like mist. _Ow..._

“You just need practice,” Daniel said, reaching up to pat his tail.

Rodney curled up on the couch, purring to himself.

“Now then, as I said, no more library,” Daniel said. “We need to decide where the _Apollo_ is going to pick us up. Are we going to demand Ellis pick us up here? Or are we going to have Robert drive us up toward Innsmouth so we can make the actual rendezvous point?”

_Do we know who ordered us dropped in Innsmouth?_

“I have an idea,” Sheppard said. “Ellis was just following orders. This came from higher up.”

“The question is, what do we do about it?”

_Landry did say they had a plan... I wonder who 'they' are and if that 'plan' involved losing me in Y'ha-nthlei._

“I would not be surprised by that plan,” Daniel admitted. “But Landry...”

“We don't have to know who planned it,” Sheppard said. “But we know Landry was involved. At least he knows who 'they' are and can give 'them' a message.”

“Yes, but what message?”

_That their plan failed, obviously._

“That's not a hard message to send, Rodney,” Sheppard said, deadpanned. “After all, you're still here.”

“No, I think I know what he's getting at,” Daniel said. “Their plan failed not once but twice. Maybe more than twice.”

“How?” Sheppard asked.

_We leave tomorrow, early evening, gives us the time we need. We have the Apollo pick us up from Innsmouth at the allotted hour, show up at the SGC covered in mud._

“Eeew,” Daniel said, wrinkling his nose.

Rodney hit him with his tail. _I say we go for a swim in the salt marsh. Get good and gross, decline a shower once we're on the Apollo. Hell, maybe Ellis will tell us who gave the order if we ask him. Have him beam us into the SGC like that as though it's completely normal._

“That is disgustingly passive-aggressive,” Sheppard said. “I like it.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I'll waterproof the notes,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

Rodney grabbed a box of beef with broccoli, murred when he found it too small to stick his snout inside.

“My god, man, use a fork,” Daniel scolded.

Rodney hit him with his tail.

“We leave tomorrow,” Sheppard said.

 


	19. A Disgusting Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most dangerous people are the ones who have been... underestimated...

“I still say we should have gotten Robert to drive,” Sheppard drawled from the back seat where he was stuck with Rodney curled around him.

“Nah, he quit,” Daniel said as he drove. “Something about not wanting to be accessory to murder.”

“Murder?” Sheppard asked.

_He thinks I killed a man and stole his image to make my Veil._

“And you didn't explain?” Sheppard asked, turning his eyes at the back of Daniel's head.

“Like he paid attention to me,” Daniel scoffed. “Said he wasn't stupid enough to believe a 'wicked tainted cultist and his evil Deep One master'. Or something like that.”

_There was more swearing but I admit, I liked being called your master._

“McKay,” Sheppard warned.

 _What? It's the natural order of things._ Rodney stretched out in Sheppard's lap, writhing sinuously.

Daniel snickered.

Sheppard rolled his eyes as Daniel pulled the car over, shutting it off in the parking lot of a scenic overlook. Below them the salt marsh spread black and endless, the sounds of frogs and distant waves reaching up to their ears. “We're here,” Daniel called, sounding far too happy for the situation.

As Sheppard hoisted his bag and grumbled about a flashlight Daniel pulled Rodney aside. “I need to know if you'll be okay,” he said.

 _I'll be all right._ Rodney focused his thoughts, keeping Sheppard from the conversation.

“If you're sure...”

_I am. I just have to remember. I have my own Nest and I need to get back there._

Daniel nodded. “All right. Still, before we go, you should be the one to have this.” He pulled a bundle of black silk from his duffel. “I found it out here last time. I figure it should be worn by its rightful owner.”

Rodney gasped at the gold armlet, at the delicate fronds of the pattern. _It's... I've never seen one, not in person... it's..._

“It's yours, if you want it.”

 _I... Thank you..._ Rodney gently picked up the armlet, running his claws over the edges of the fronds, felt the gold warm to his touch. He slowly slid it up his left arm, stopping only when it hugged his scales with a gentle pressure.

“Where'd you get that?” Sheppard asked, shining his flashlight at the two of them. Gold glinted in the wan light as Rodney blocked the beam with one hand and hissed.

“I found it out here last time,” Daniel said.

“And you gave it to him?”

“Well yeah,” Daniel said. “His family basically owned the town here. Figure he's as close to a 'rightful owner' as we're gonna get.”

_Delta Green would just lock it in a safe with the rest of the stuff they stole._

“All right, well if you're done, we've only got three hours before beam-out time.”

Daniel nodded and hoisted his bag. Rodney took a deep breath and turned to look down at the distant lights of Arkham one last time.

*****

He'd said his goodbyes earlier that day. A stint with the mirror to put on his Veil, a quick check by annoying Robert while he packed his things, trying not to laugh as Robert ranted about the mass panic that would surely ensue once the dead body washed up, and Rodney was out the door.

It was an amazing feeling, standing on the sidewalk at midday and not being stared at. Oh, he got a few shocked looks, mostly from people behind windows or glancing in mirrors, but nobody stopped him as he crossed onto campus and made his way to the anthropology department.

Professor Randall's office door was open, the sound of movement and shuffling inside. Rodney knocked on the doorframe.

Randall stopped his pacing in the middle of the room and turned to look. His eyes went wide with recognition as the orientation papers he held fell to the floor. “M-Meredith?”

Rodney smiled, a little sheepish. “It worked,” he said.

Randall almost dropped in a faint before shaking himself out of it. “Come in, come in,” he said excitedly, gesturing toward the comfy chairs. “How did you... This is... What book was... How?!”

Rodney chuckled as he sat in one of the comfy chairs, the same one he'd favored during his years at Miskatonic. His posture was more twisted now than it used to be, his hips canted like he was trying not to sit on a tail no one could see. “It wasn't in a book,” Rodney admitted. “But I needed the books to see that.”

“I'm glad we were of some help, at least,” Randall said. He reached for the coffee maker hidden in the corner behind a rattan and hide mask. Bah, it was empty. “I appear to be out of coffee, that is, if you're even...”

“Fetching coffee is what grad students are for,” Rodney said. “I'm sure you have one lurking around here.”

“I do, actually,” Randall said. He took the empty coffee pot to the office next door, returning with a full one. “Or I can just steal theirs.”

Rodney laughed, an oddly dark sound that held elements of his hissing. “That was mean.”

“I have tenure,” Randall defended while pouring two mugs. He handed one to Rodney and sat down. “First, how?”

Despite the Veil Rodney purred as he tasted the scent from his coffee. “Wha? Oh.” He stopped trying to seduce his own mug. “The books are all wrong about Deep Ones, they must be. We absolutely communicate with each other. It's a Song, used to create the sound of words we want others to hear. This is... The Veil is an expansion of that. My Song is altering your perception of reality, making you see and hear this form.”

“Absolutely fascinating,” Randall said, listening raptly.

“It has... limits,” Rodney admitted. “Apparently you have to be able to hear me. Not like Dr. Jackson or Colonel Sheppard, it doesn't require that level of... attentiveness... but it does mean a glass door is enough to block it. Or headphones. And I can't fool mirrors, I figured that one out early on.”

“It's still amazing. Do you have to be aware of a mind to alter it?”

“I... don't know... I might but not consciously. Does that make sense?”

“It does. Even a human mind is capable of sensing the presence of others. We just learn not to listen to it.”

“And to think, as your student I used to roll my eyes at revelations like that.” Rodney sipped his coffee, eyes falling closed as he purred.

“I seem to remember telling you,” Randall said fondly. “One day you'd believe me.”

Rodney hummed as he drank deeply.

“This Veil of yours, it must require a great deal of effort.”

Rodney swallowed heavily and nodded. “Oh yes,” he agreed. “It gives me a headache if I keep it up too long. Luckily, coffee has always been good for my headaches.”

Randall smirked. “I wonder, is that because the coffee cures the headache or because the headache is your addiction speaking?”

Rodney straightened up, looking imperious. “Does it matter?” he asked.

“I suppose not,” Randall admitted. “What will you do now?”

Rodney looked in the half-empty mug, seeing his own proper reflection in the fluid there. “I have to get back,” he said. “I've been away long enough.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Randall said. “I was hoping you'd be able to clarify some... questions about what your colleague ranted. If you're able.”

Rodney sighed. “So much of what we do is classified,” he admitted. “I think my existence is going to be classified by the end of the year.”

“So you'll be staying where you are now,” Randall said. “About this... 'star gate' of yours...”

Rodney's coffee cup slipped from his fingers. It bounced on the floor, lukewarm coffee splashing everywhere. He gaped openly, eyes wide with shock.

“You have always been so open with your thoughts, my boy,” Randall said, triumph clearly written on his face. “I never experienced the headache your colleague Dr. Jackson so helpfully warned me about. I wonder if perhaps your mind made that breach when you were my student.”

Rodney curled up in his chair, not so comfy anymore.

“I know you can't tell me anything,” Randall continued, obvious triumph fading to a smug superiority. “But I can tell you. I've known about Area 51 for a long, long time. How else, might I ask, would I have known the type of letter to write to get you in?”

“How much... do you know?” Rodney whispered.

“I know there is a gate,” Randall said. “I know it's been studied. I know you've probably used it, despite Dr. Jackson's obvious reaction to it and its truths. If you'd take my advice, and I know this unlikely now but if you do, remember this. Don't bring back more than you understand. There are limits to human understanding. Those limits are there for a reason.”

Rodney scoffed.

“Yes, yes, you're above such limits,” Randall admonished. “Others have thought so too. Your Dr. Jackson, for instance. But for the safety of Earth, don't bring back more than you understand. Don't Sing the stars right, Meredith, that's all I ask.”

Rodney stared down at his hands, at the coffee staining the old wood floor. The new stain mixed in with a dozen old ones to form a new color in the ancient planks. “I should go,” he whispered.

“That is up to you,” Randall said.

“I have work to do,” Rodney said. He got up, looked back once, and left.

*****

Sedge grasses whipped at their legs as they trudged through the weeds and the mud of the salt marsh. Rodney led the way, lamp-like eyes shining in the darkness, his thoughts returning to the present. Sheppard took mid, his flashlight opening a way for himself and Dr. Jackson in the rear.

Rodney took a deep breath, tasting the stench of the marsh, the salt of the sea. He could hear the Mother's Song pressing on his mind, calling to him. He slowed his pace, savoring the sound of it.

He knew he would never hear this again.

A hand grasped his shoulder. “Hey, buddy, you doing okay?”

Rodney looked over, saw Sheppard standing in a night that held no secrets, a shadow with no darkness. _I'm all right. Just thinking._

“Yeah, well, think later, we got a job to do,” Sheppard said.

Rodney stayed still as Sheppard pulled ahead, shining that damned flashlight in the weeds. Not that it helped him find footing, the marsh was deep here and each step sent him up to his knees in sucking mud. If he kept going that way toward the mudflats they were going to need the _Apollo_ to get him out of the quicksand that surely waited.

“Maybe if you Sang it would be easier,” Daniel suggested. He didn't follow Sheppard, instead looked less than thrilled at the bobbing flashlight as it drifted further into darkness with a faint sound of swearing.

_I don't want to attract too much attention._

Daniel looked around. “I'm not sure that's an option anymore,” he said.

All around them, watching at a distance, were the faint glow of lamp-like green eyes.

*****

Sheppard dragged his foot out of the mud, swearing as he realized he'd just have to put it back down. And who knew mud could get this deep? It sucked at his feet, pulling at his shoes and his pants, dragging at his skin and his clothes. He slid his leg forward before putting weight on it.

“Shit!” he shouted as his foot seemed to break through something, sinking down past his knee to his thigh.

“McKay!” Sheppard called.

He pulled on his sinking leg, putting his weight on the other until...

“Oh crap,” he said to himself as he lost any sort of control over his footing. “I'm sinking.” He took a deep breath. “McKay! I'm stuck!”

He pulled ineffectively at his feet, first one leg and then the other as the mud crept up his hips. “This isn't good, this is bad, really bad, McKay, I need your help here.”

*****

On the more solid edge of the mudflat Rodney sighed. _Will you be safe here?_

Daniel looked around at the eyes waiting in the distance. The closest was perhaps seventy feet. If they charged at him he'd have no chance. The memory of pain sparked through the bite on his neck. “I guess I have to be,” Daniel said. “I don't think they'll give me a choice.”

Rodney nodded. He raised up on his hind legs and snarled his ownership of this human before bounding off through the grasses toward the mudflat. He went to his belly as the mud got soft, sliding along like an eel to reach Sheppard, already sunk to his waist in the mud, his duffel discarded at his side.

“About time there, Rodney,” Sheppard drawled.

_Calm down, I had to make sure Daniel's safe. I appear to have, ah, friends out here._

“What? Where?” Sheppard raised the flashlight to look.

Rodney knocked it away, sending it careening into the night. The light faded then went out as the flashlight splashed in the mud and sank.

Sheppard turned disbelieving fury on Rodney. “Why did you...”

_The last thing you need right now is to draw attention to yourself and us. Now stop struggling before you make the mud suck you under._

Sheppard didn't respond, or perhaps he did the opposite, as he kept fighting the mud. It grasped at his belly, crawling up his middle toward his chest.

Rodney laid on the mud just out of reach. _I'm going to wait until you stop struggling. You're just making it worse._

“Well how else do I get out of here?!” Sheppard demanded, trying desperately to pull himself out. He slammed his hands on the surface and pushed. The mud grabbed his hands immediately and sucked them in, not letting go.

_Oh, now you've done it._

Sheppard wiggled and pulled and struggled but he couldn't free his hands or his arms as the mud reached up to claim his chest.

_You're kicking under there, aren't you. Yeah, that's how most of them go. Kicking and flailing and trying to swim when all you have to do is go limp, relax, and then slither out._

Rodney lay on his belly on the mudflat, feeling the undulation of Sheppard's struggles. They did little to help, not as Sheppard kept sinking. Rodney could look him in the eye without leaning up as mud lapped at Sheppard's shoulders, threatening to pull him to his doom.

_If I reach in and grab you, you have to promise to stop struggling._

“How?” Sheppard asked, panic lapping at his voice.

_Just... stop. Let go. I need you to do this, okay? Otherwise you'll just drag me under along with._

“I'll... Okay...”

Rodney reached into the mud, sliding his hands around Sheppard's chest as the undulation stopped.

_Good, now... Just relax. That's important, you need to relax. Deep breaths._

Sheppard closed his eyes and tried to pretend he wasn't here, stuck in the mud to his neck with the tide sounding far too loud for his tastes. He focused on the feel of arms around him, and of the heavy wetness surrounding him. If he stopped thinking about it, it actually felt kinda nice.

_Now... I want you to stay relaxed, just let yourself go limp. Yes, that's it. You're doing fine..._

As he relaxed the pressure all around him seemed to change, turning from a tight grip to more of a gentle embrace.

_That's good... just like that... Now, I'm going to pull and when I do I want you to push with your legs._

Sheppard nodded, pushing against the mud as Rodney pulled on him. He yanked his arms out, wrapping them around Rodney's shoulders. They both paused for a moment, catching their breath, before pulling out first one leg and then the other.

_Now then... Crawl on your belly until you hit something sort-of solid and stay nearer to the upper marsh until we hit the beam-out point._

Sheppard belly-crawled away from the shoreline as Rodney slithered back toward Daniel. He couldn't help the growl as he saw Daniel gently tickling the gill plates of the two Deep Ones who'd braved the human to watch the commotion.

Two sets of glowing eyes hissed back at him. One set laid on Daniel's lap, the other draped over his shoulders.

“Okay, you two, I have somewhere else to be,” Daniel said.

Rodney watched in disbelief as the two strange Deep Ones hissed and murred and demanded pettings before giving him a quick nuzzle and slithering off.

_What **is** it with you?_

“I don't know what you mean,” Daniel said with mock disbelief.

Rodney ignored him even as he led him toward the beam-out point and the muddy tidal pools. He looked up to see Sheppard back on his feet and coming in their direction.

The beam-out point might once have been near Innsmouth's New Church Green. It was once the city center, though now it was little more than a crumbled marble statue base, a slight hill in the marsh, and the center of a few branching ruts in the sedge.

It was also near some particularly fetid tidal pools.

“Eeew,” Daniel said, looking at it. A swampy bubble rose up from the peaty surface.

_Really?_

“Eeew,” Daniel said, again, poking the mud with a stick. He dropped his bag at his feet. “Eeew,” he said a third time as he poked it with his hand.

Rodney was about to say something else when he realized the tone of those 'eeew's were... not disgusted.

“Eeew,” Daniel squealed as he stepped in and immediately sank to his waist.

“Oh my god, you **like** it,” Sheppard accused. “Ew. Just, ew.” He wandered off toward the less disgusting tidal pools, instead jumping into one of those.

Rodney purred as he slid in. It was exquisitely disgusting. For one thing he could feel the swamp bubbles as they rose past his skin. For another it stank of dead things and sulfur. For a third, it was difficult to move in and easier to move on. He wiggled as Daniel settled down up to his shoulders and lovingly rubbed his hands along his arms like he were in a particularly relaxing bath.

Rodney felt before he heard the footsteps. Sheppard stood there, soaking wet with sedge fronds in his hair, his entire body still streaked with mud. “You're both gross,” he said. “Also, we've got ten minutes.”

“Oh, right,” Daniel said. He tried to extract himself but... “A little help here?”

Rodney snorted before hands grabbed him and shoved him under, using him as a step. As soon as the pressure stopped he burst up to the surface, snarling indignities.

Worse, Sheppard was laughing at him.

Rodney murred. He felt his foot hit something deep in the morass. He hissed in question before grabbing the object with his tail, bringing it with him as he crawled out.

Interesting. It was small with a circular shape. He took it to the tidal pond, swishing it in the water as he cavorted.

Ooo, pretty... He slipped the gold bracelet onto his wrist as Sheppard called him and Daniel over with a call of 'two minutes'.

They stood, ready for the beaming, trying not to giggle at their state.

“No, really, act like this is normal,” Sheppard said.

Daniel snorted and laughed.

“Oh come on,” Sheppard whined. “At least act annoyed.”

“Okay, okay, I'm fine,” Daniel said, taking a deep breath.

The world went white and then changed.

“Oh holy mother of God!”

Ellis stood in front of them, face frozen in an expression of disgusted terror. “What the hell happened?!” he demanded.

“The beam-out area was a little swampy,” Sheppard said.

Daniel twitched.

“I can see that!” Ellis shrieked.

Daniel snorted and collapsed laughing. Rodney caught him, held him on his feet.

Sheppard glared at his failed accomplice. “Someone ordered you to use that beam-out point,” Sheppard said. “You happen to know who? Because there is no way they didn't know about this.”

“Sh-sheppard alm-most died,” Daniel sputtered, still laughing. “Quicks-sand up to the neck!”

“That was not fun,” Sheppard said, deadpanned.

“You wanna hit the shower?” Ellis offered.

Daniel managed to stop laughing.

“We'd rather not,” Sheppard said. “We'd rather share the, ah, experience, if you catch my meaning.”

Ellis grew thoughtful. He stared right at Rodney as he thought. Suddenly a conspiratorial smile blossomed across his face. “General Landry sent my orders,” he said. “He said he wanted to make sure the coordinates I had were correct. I think I can get you in his office before he turns in for the night.”

“Perfect,” Sheppard said, returning the grin.

Rodney purred, his tail slowly waving behind him as the world went white again.

“Holy Hell!”

_A lot of holeys around here._

Landry glared at the three disgustingly swampy... things... that beamed down right in front of his office just as he was trying to leave.

“The beam-out area was a bit...” Sheppard trailed off.

“Gross?” Daniel supplied.

“Swampy?” Sheppard said.

“Quicksandy?” Daniel said.

“That's not even a word,” Sheppard said.

“But properly descriptive.”

“Shut up and go shower!” Landry shouted.

Sheppard slid a hand through the slimy mud still caking his shirt and looked at the heavy soaking duffel he carried. “Yeah, we probably should,” he agreed.

“That's an order,” Landry growled.

Rodney made a bleating, clicking sound at him and started off, tail swinging wide to splash water and filth everywhere.

“You know, Rodney, I agree,” Sheppard said as he followed.

“I kind of liked it,” Daniel said, loud enough that half the corridor could hear.

“You would,” Sheppard said.

Landry closed his office door as the trio finally left. Now if only they could take that awful smell with them.


	20. A Daring Gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change needs to start somewhere. Might as well be here.

It was after midnight when Colonel Carter pulled rank and dismissed the marines guarding the men's locker room. She could still hear the showers within along with various human and nonhuman noises that suggested conversation.

She stepped inside the room.

Lockers lined the walls, wood benches in the middle of the room. Those benches were draped with the muddy remains of what might have been clothes. She wrinkled her nose. There was no way such physical manifestations of stench could ever be used as clothing again.

The noises came from the showers. A creature bleated and barked and chirped while two men answered it in a conversation an outsider could only somewhat follow.

Sam felt the oddest twinge of jealousy.

She shook it off as one shower head was turned off and its user came toward the main locker room. He would have to pass her to reach the towels.

“Daniel,” Sam greeted.

“Sam,” he returned. Years of familiarity had stripped them both of any shame in this situation. “What's going on?”

“I know what Landry had planned,” she said. “That does not leave this room.”

“If his plan was to try luring McKay out to Y'ha-nthlei, we already figured that out.”

Sam nodded. “If that didn't work he was going to order a swim test for him tomorrow morning,” Sam said. “Fresh water. No recovery time. He was warned the salt loss would be fatal and he ordered it anyway.”

Daniel sighed. “I should be surprised but... We'll come up with something.”

“Do that,” Sam said.

Daniel nodded as he left. He grabbed a towel and disappeared, choosing to wander the halls of the SGC wet and be-towelled rather than putting his muddy clothes back on.

Sam stepped into the shower area, slowly and silently.

Sheppard was finishing up. She ducked behind the chest-high excuse for a privacy wall as he called out his intent to leave.

Good. That left only one more.

Rodney stood on his hind legs, eyes closed in ecstasy as he held his mouth open in the spray. The water flowed out through his gills, rinsing them of the grit and funk of the salt marsh. He purred audibly before dropping back down, shaking and cavorting in the spray like an animal.

He didn't even notice.

He didn't notice as Sam stalked up behind him, walking on silent feet and a silent stride. He didn't notice as a second shower head turned on, its sound adding to the din of the locker room. He didn't notice.

Not until he felt her hands on him.

He spun around in shock, eyes going wide as he--

“Don't call the others,” she said, a hand going to his snout. “Just... hear me out first.”

Rodney's wide pupils shrank back down to the tiny points demanded by the bright white tile and fluorescent lights. He chirped softly.

Water kept cascading, soaking her arms and her front as she held him still. “I did some research of my own while you were gone,” she said. “Daniel said you already suspected Landry.”

Rodney bleated softly before stopping mid-sound and simply nodding.

“He has more planned,” Sam said. “He'll want to get you in a freshwater tank tomorrow morning. Speed tests, he'll say. They already did the same with your sister, he'll say. She said it was fine, he'll say. He's already been warned the salt loss will kill you but he's still going along with it.”

Rodney's eyes went wide before he growled.

“Your beam-out with the _Daedalus_ is the morning after,” Sam said. “All you have to do is avoid the situation until then. Now, I've already warned your other two but... McKay, this would be a lot easier if I could hear you.”

Rodney looked shocked. He murred softly. It sounded oddly like a question.

“I don't like the idea,” Sam admitted. “That headache earlier was legendarily bad. But I refuse to stand by and...”

Rodney pulled her into the spray of the shower. She shook her head, trying to keep the water from her eyes and nose.

A gentle purr gave her pause. A hand went to her face, shielding her from the worst of the spray even as her clothes grew soaking wet. She blinked the water from her eyes to see the oddness of familiar blue eyes set in a completely alien face.

And then those eyes closed and that face nudged her own in a gentle nuzzle. The purring continued as Rodney nuzzled her, a strange sensation that felt oddly comforting.

Then the pain started.

She winced, curling in on herself as the pain crashed through her brain. She grunted as she tried not to cry out, to scream, to give away her position. She vaguely felt hands holding her up, a snout nuzzling her face and neck, an animal's voice bleating and murring and chirping. Arms wrapped around her, holding her too close for comfort, not close enough as the noises continued, as the pain got worse. Gentle claws combed through her hair as she grabbed on for dear life, held something that didn't feel human. Far from it, she felt rough chitin scales and smooth satin skin under her hands as her mind fought to make sense of it all.

She gasped, coughing as she inhaled a mouthful of water. The pain was too much. She wasn't sure how long she could... how long...

The next thing she knew she was wet, cold, and shivering. A soft purring drew her back from the edge of darkness and agony. She looked around, saw they were still alone in the men's showers. A thought idly hit her, that they should probably be out of there soon before anyone found them.

She laid halfway on something smooth and wet and warm and breathing and bleating. She looked up into eyes that seemed sad.

“It didn't work, did it?” she asked.

Rodney bowed his head, purring. _No, I don't think it did._

Sam nodded. “Well, it was worth a try. If it hasn't by now then I guess...” She trailed off. “Wait a minute.”

Rodney hissed, a questioning noise.

“Say something.”

_Like what?_

“Okay, see, I heard that.”

Rodney's eyes widened in shock before he squealed and threw his arms around her. He laid his neck on her shoulder, purring deeply.

Her mind interpreted the action as rather intimate. She gently pushed him off of her shoulder. “We can't let the others know,” she said.

_What? Why not?_

“Landry's operating under the assumption that Daniel's nuts, Sheppard's untrustworthy, and Caldwell's your thrall,” she said. “Delta Green got to him. He won't listen to sense unless it's delivered by someone he sees as uncompromised. I can't be seen as under your influence.”

_Will he listen to sense?_

“Maybe, but... not by tomorrow.”

Rodney growled. His tail would be lashing if he wasn't sitting on it. _Then what's the point?_

“He can't be allowed to get away with this on the long term,” Sam said. “Too much is at stake to allow it.”

_Oh yeah? Like what?_

“Your sister, for one,” Sam said. “There are other hybrids in the SGC and beyond that have never even heard of Great Cthulhu. Why should they be assumed to work for his rise? What kind of people are we if we can't even stand the idea of another intelligent species on our own planet? How can we possibly hope to negotiate offworld and on if we're that hypocritical?”

_You're... going to completely upend the SGC..._

“And the IOA.”

Rodney shorted. _Expect backlash. The last time someone tried we all got killed. But..._ He sighed, murring softly. _It has to start somewhere._

*****

General Landry walked past base security an hour late. The long night combined with the sudden appearance of Colonel Sheppard and Drs. Jackson and McKay had negated any hope he had of sleeping and his schedule was thrown.

He hoped they could get started with these tests early. Someone up in Delta Green was clamoring for results and he just wanted it all over with. Get those burnouts out of the SGC, ignore their weird conspiracy theories, wash his hands of the entire ordeal. Then maybe the Stargate Program could get back to important work that didn't involve paranoid delusions.

The elevator dinged, opening up to level 11. Landry walked out into the main corridor toward the last security checkpoint when he heard voices down a corridor.

“So my transfer to Atlantis looks like it might go through.”

“You're serious about this, aren't you?”

“Well, yeah. C'mon, man, it's a whole nother galaxy!”

“Yeah, one a lot of people don't come back from. Besides, you sure they'll take you with them hands? They're gettin' worse.”

“I've been assured it won't be a problem.”

“Yeah they always say that. Then the doc gets a good look and you're on a one way ticket back.”

Landry passed through the checkpoint and walked off. That would be an idea, to foist all their hybrids off on the Atlantis Expedition. Then it would be Woolsey's problem. Let him deal with Delta Green and their crazy.

The next elevator took him down to level 21 and the medical labs.

He walked in on an examination. A very strange examination.

“He bit you.”

Colonel Sheppard lay on an exam table, a large shallow bite wound on the back of his neck. A technician dabbed at it with a wet cotton ball held in a pair of forceps. “Yes, he bit me,” Sheppard drawled. “Grabbed me with his tail as soon as I left the gym, dragged me off to an empty storage room, and bit me until I stopped struggling.”

“And why did he bite you?”

“So I'd stop moving. Look, he's salt-starved and I'd just run, what, equivalent of a 10k? Being dragged off by that tail was odd enough but as soon as he started licking me, that's when it got weird.”

“Licking...”

Landry cleared his throat.

“Oh, General, I didn't see you there,” Colonel Sheppard said, vaguely saluting from where he lay prone on the exam table.

“That is...” Landry got a good look at the bite wound. The mouth that made it was larger and wider than any human mouth and the teeth...

“I was ambushed by Dr. McKay,” Sheppard admitted. “He may have heard about your plans for today and, well, grabbing me was easier than eating the salt shakers from the mess?”

“He grabbed you.”

“Wrapped that tail around my waist and lifted. Feet off the ground, nothing in those corridors to grab hold of, not much I could do about it. Rest assured though, General, I will make him pay for those 'damsel' remarks.”

“Damsel.”

“Yeah. Then he found a storage closet and, well, the point of biting like this is to get the victim to stop moving and submit. Of course, there's no compulsion there, a good elbow strike would likely stop it, but...”

“Licking...” General Landry could feel the headache. “I am not asking...”

“And I'm not telling,” Sheppard said. “But you know, Dr. Jackson has a bite wound right here, too. Wait, hey doc, has he been in here to get it checked out? We ended up in some really deep mud last night. Gross things and open wounds...”

“I'll have him called in,” the med tech said. “And I'll have him see Dr. Robinson afterwards. In fact, you should too.”

“Oh that'll go over well,” Sheppard drawled. “'Hey Dr. Jackson, you gotta see the shrink again.' I'm taking a shower first and you can't stop me.”

Landry decided that was more than enough and left. Clearly someone was going to have to find McKay.

He took the elevator up to level 18, hoping to find Dr. Jackson before the shrink got ahold of his crazy ass. He passed by the recreational library, its door wide open, voices coming from within.

“My dear, I know it's hard but at least try to understand where he's coming from. General Landry deals with things from Outside. Enemies, allies, neutrals, all come through the stargate from the Outside. From not-Earth. And now he's forced to deal with some unknown from Inside, from his own homeworld. It's bound to be disconcerting.”

“We're not hurting anyone! We just want...” A woman's voice broke and Landry could hear her crying.

“I know, love, I know. Perhaps if the creature Meredith could produce a leader of his kind? The general does prefer negotiating directly.”

Amidst the tears there was a loud snort. “If... If the s-stories are to be believed... the closest thing to a leader... is a gigantic tentacle-headed sanity-f-flensing m-monster...”

“The creature Meredith is also a monster, how bad could this... How gigantic is this leader?”

“Th-they're just s-stories... He hates us because of stories!”

Crying turned to sobbing, gently comforted by a soft shushing. Landry quietly left, guilt eating at his insides.

Dr. Jackson wasn't in his lab and the control room didn't know where he would be.

*****

Someone reported singing coming from level 26, strange singing in some odd language.

Landry took the elevator, completely expecting to find Dr. Jackson in the middle of one of his episodes.

As soon as he got off the elevator he could hear strange sounds. Someone or something was singing, that much was for certain. But the sounds...

They weren't entirely human.

Landry considered calling for a security team but... He dismissed the idea.

He had to find the source of this odd singing. He could almost hear the words...

“cum autem iuste... et ambulant en tenebris... sederet en ruinas... perenoxxx...”

It was definitely not English.

He traced the odd singing to a storage room, its door ajar. He thought he knew that voice but there was something beneath it, another series of notes.

“cum autem vocantem... intrare domum... tulit ad portam Atlantis... repositus...”

Wait, what?

“repositusss...”

Landry opened the door and nearly tripped on a box sitting in the middle of the floor. A deliberately placed warning, perhaps? And why weren't the lights on? Landry flipped the switch but the lights were dead.

“Control, there's a problem with the lights on level 26.”

There was no answer.

“millia annofuturum... lunae sidera cantat... en tempore somnia... ut noctibus...”

“Control can you hear me?!”

“vocarrre...”

Landry soldiered forward into the darkened storage room. The light from the hallway didn't seem to reach very far and the room was in disarray. He groped for a shelf or a stack or even a cabinet but all he could see was darkness.

And two pairs of bright green eyes.

“Dr. Jackson? Are you...”

“maria nocte vocantem... et abstulit Atlantis natat... mare vertitur en tenebras... ad Atlantis vertit ad lucem... mare...”

As Landry's eyes grew used to the darkness he recoiled from the sight before him.

“mare vocaaat...”

Dr. Jackson sat on the floor of the storage room, surrounded by a nest of blue silks, pillows, and fronds of red seaweed. Pressed behind him, wrapped around him, the Deep One draped its arms over his shoulders as it crooned the strangest, loveliest Song. Both were adorned with gold necklaces, headdresses, armlets, and nothing else. Both had the same predatory glow in their inhuman eyes. Daniel's voice carried the strange words along the cadences of the monster's Song.

“millia annorum... luna sidera cantat... vo'somniatis... somniatisss...”

“Oh God no,” Landry whispered. “Daniel, what have you done?!”

Dr. Jackson merely smiled as he sang, nuzzling against the snout of the Deep One.

“audivi deo'somnia... to'fabulia cantabat... nec illusio... anno entasset... entassssset...”

Landry's hand went to his waist. No, of course he was unarmed. He had to get out of here. He had to save Dr. Jackson from this, this monster. He had to do something...

“Atlantis nocte vocantem... quod descendit undas... mox circumsoner undae...”

He had to get out of here.

Landry bolted for the door, that song of the damned following him.

“ad Atlantis vertit ad lucem...”

“ad lusssem...”

*****

General Landry burst out of the elevator on level 19, running right into Dr. Jackson.

He shook his head to clear it, only to lay eyes on... Wait... “You're not singing,” Landry realized, eyes wide.

Daniel groaned, a hand to his head as he sat on the floor. “Ow. No I'm not.” He glared up at Landry. “Wait, who's singing?”

“You were,” Landry said. “Just now. In some strange language. And, and McKay was there and you were...” Landry sagged against the wall, sliding down to the floor. “It wasn't real?”

“Not that I know of,” Daniel said. He stayed on the floor, moving next to Landry. If anyone asked he could claim they were holding up the wall. “I heard there was singing in the lower levels.”

“So the singing is real.”

Daniel nodded. “Dr. McKay picked up a technique for Singing a Veil around himself. You probably walked in on him.”

“He was... you were... you were a monster and there was nuzzling and you were singing... he was wrapped all around you... you mentioned Atlantis... it was...”

“You were seeing what you expected to see. That begs the question, General. Why do you expect to see me like that?” Daniel gave the general a good long hard glare before he stood up, dusted off his shirt, and left.

General Landry looked down at his hands and shuddered. “But it was so real...”

He had no idea how long he sat there before Colonel Carter found him. He looked up at her. “Are you real?” he asked.

“Last time I checked,” Sam said wryly. She leaned against the wall and slid down it, sitting next to the general. “What's on your mind?”

“Am I...” Landry cleared his throat. “Am I letting McKay get to me?”

“McKay.”

Landry nodded. “He has this... Veil. Dr. Jackson called it a Veil. He was Singing. But that's not what I saw.”

“What did you see?” Sam asked.

“It... The Deep One had taken Dr. Jackson from us completely. They had the same eyes. They were covered in its jewelry, it was draped all over him, the nuzzling, oh God the nuzzling...”

Sam very carefully kept her expression neutrally interested.

“It was making him sing. It wasn't English. I think... I don't know, it wasn't quite Latin...”

“It might have been Ancient,” Sam allowed.

“Yes it, it might have been?”

“Well, Sir, Daniel told me Rodney uses his Veil to look human because that's what we expect. Deep down when we talk to him we expect to see and hear a human and the Veil gives us that illusion.”

“I didn't see a human,” Landry said. “Neither of them were.”

“You saw what you expected,” Sam said. “Sir, if I may, I think you've been listening to Delta Green too much. Their archivist thinks he's a movie character, their agents are all burn-outs and drunks, they keep trying to track Vala, and they won't even accept that Teal'c has rights. Honestly, Sir, I think that's why he and Colonel Mitchell are spending all their time offworld.”

“You don't trust them.”

“Of course I don't trust them. I think if they had their way we'd be burying the stargate and burning our own hyperdrives out of fear. Fear of what's out there, fear of what's in here, fear of ever advancing our knowledge beyond some preapproved status quo that we've already blown far past. Sir, that's not why I'm here and it's not why you're here.”

“No, no it isn't,” Landry admitted. He hauled himself to his feet, offering a hand down for Colonel Carter. She took it and stood up.

“I guess I have a decision to make,” Landry said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That song the not!Daniel sings started as a real song, [Seawinds by Therion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0WVOcrlS8Y). The words were then altered, made creepy. Then Google Translate for the Latin. Finally, I weirded the Latin, made it sound pretty, sang it to my dog to make sure it worked.


	21. An Impending Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn't causing this, dammit! Why didn't anyone believe him?

Reports of strange music came from levels 26, 18, 8, and level 28. A thorough search of level 28 was ordered, the stargate itself taken offline until the source was found and neutralized.

Rodney sighed with relief as he lurked in the access tunnels between levels 21 and 22. Maintaining the Veil in front of Landry had been weird, a complex illusion involving lights, images, sounds, language, far more than he'd imagined the Veil was capable of. But the mirror helped him, showed him what was as he weaved what wasn't, reminded him what he was while he worked minds against themselves, allowed him to create a puppet illusion that sang in Ancient and nuzzled him with obscene fondness.

Still, he would not be using his Veil that way often. He was exhausted, starving, dizzy, and desperately needed his Nest. He longed for the sensation of clean seawater lapping against his scales, the slide of skin under his claws, hands against his spine, flat human snouts nuzzling his own. Oh, when he got back he was throwing a giant naked party in his bathtub and nobody would stop him.

Not like they would here. Damned Delta Green, influencing who they shouldn't. Only **he** was supposed to Sing the Veils and influence policy!

Wait, where had that thought come from?

Never mind that, how was he going to stop this? Level 26 was his fault but surely the general's paranoia didn't extend so deeply that he still heard that Song? And what else was Singing in the SGC?

The Song on level 28 had to be the gate itself. The gate always Sang, a low thrum that lurked at the back of his mind like the comforting beat of his own heart. But how would the others hear it? Surely Dr. Jackson wasn't so deranged as to actually try to summon Yog-Sothoth. But why else would the gate be Singing loud enough to hear?

Rodney cleared his mind, reaching out to touch the minds around him.

*****

The mess hall bustled as nonessential and partially-essential personnel collected in the area to mull around where the food was. The base hadn't been locked down yet but most everyone knew it soon would be and they wanted to be somewhere with comforts, conversation, and coffee.

And gossip. General Landry was in the corner holding some sort of court with all of Dr. McKay's known thralls and then some. Dr. Jackson sat nursing a cup of coffee as he rubbed his neck and glared at Colonel Sheppard. Sheppard lounged in a chair, making idle conversation with Jeannie Miller. Jeannie was not distracted by his charms, worriedly wringing her hands while Vala Mal Doran laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Vala wondered at Colonel Carter's inclusion even as Carter tried to play the part of a neutral third party.

And then, almost at once, everyone else in the mess hall cringed, grabbing their heads. General Landry winced and doubled over even as a few scientists bit down on their own screams.

Vala gave a surprised grin as Carter looked around for a moment, seemed to realize, and then acted like she was in pain. Carter glared at Vala who merely winked before putting on a worried expression.

“What's going on?” Jeannie asked.

“The creature Meredith must be nearby,” Vala said. “Nowhere near the strange music elsewhere around the mountain. Have you considered the possibility that he might not be responsible?”

“What else could it be?” Landry demanded, trying to shake the pain out of his head.

“The Singing is coming from several different locations,” Carter said through dramatically gritted teeth. “There's only one of McKay.”

“There are more hybrids,” Landry snapped.

“Where?!” Sam demanded. “One's right here, one's off-world and one didn't even know what he was before this week.”

“Something... is wrong...” Landry growled while he staggered out of the mess hall.

Carter dropped her act and made a motion that the others needed to follow him, to make sure he didn't order anything drastic.

Like...

“The access tunnels,” Landry snapped into his radio. “He's in the access tunnels near level 22! Send in some marines, flush him out, use any means necessary.”

“That's my brother!” Jeannie cried. “You can't just kill him for not wanting to end up dead!”

“Then he shouldn't have started this.”

“He's not the one Singing,” Daniel said, fuming. “If he's in the access tunnels then he's not on level 8, he's not on level 18, and he's certainly not messing with the stargate! He was absolutely safe on Atlantis!”

“Then maybe he should have stayed there!”

The sound of gunfire and screaming broke out from inside the walls. Landry, Carter, and Sheppard ran to the nearest access hatch in time to watch two marines dragging a wounded soldier out of the hatch. He'd been shot.

“We saw it, sir,” one said, saluting. “Lancer here got caught by a ricochet. That thing doesn't move like any animal I've ever seen.”

Sheppard puffed in anger but Carter stepped forward before he could say anything. “That is not an animal in there,” she snapped. “That is Dr. Rodney McKay, the head of sciences on the Atlantis Expedition. He has five years gate experience in a galaxy more hostile than ours, he has saved this universe on more than one occasion, he once destroyed a solar system, and he is a genius. He **was** here on official invitation before someone decided it would be prudent to treat him like an animal and a criminal simply because he looks like that.” She couldn't help the glare at Landry. “Tell me, Sergeant, is this how we treat our guests?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Good.” She gave a dismissive glance at the marine writhing on the floor. “Take care of that.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Landry grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back from the access hatch. “Colonel, you and I are going to have words later,” he snapped.

“We can have words right now, General,” she growled, glaring him in the eye.

“You're compromised,” Landry realized.

Carter pulled away from his grasp. “And you're blinded by a bunch of bedtime stories written in the '30s by a racist prick. You're being influenced by a group of domestic terrorists who lost their government sanction during the Vietnam War for committing war crimes against our allies. You've been misinformed, misled, and flat-out **used** to carry out multiple assassination attempts against Dr. McKay. This is just the most recent one! He's not doing this, General. Someone else is. It isn't Deep Ones, it isn't hybrids, it isn't us.”

“And who else would it be?” Landry demanded.

“Did you give Delta Green access to the gate?” Jeannie asked quietly.

“What?” Landry demanded.

“Delta Green,” Jeannie said again, louder this time. “Do they have access to the gate?”

“It's not important,” Landry said.

“It is,” Jeannie insisted. “Dad used to tell us stories about them, when he was alive. They made people disappear, kidnapped and tortured, murder by magic. You don't know what they're capable of. If they have the gate...”

“If they had their way we'd bury the stargate,” Carter said.

“Or they'd just destroy it,” Sheppard realized. “And kill us all with them.”

“General, call off the hunt for McKay,” Daniel begged. “Get the marines down in the gateroom, we can't take the chance.”

Suddenly alarms blared. A whoosh of pressure changing popped their ears as blast doors came down, blocking off hallways.

“Who triggered the lockdown?” Landry demanded. He tapped the radio in his ear. “Control! Override the lockdown! Control! Answer me!”

“Delta Green has the gate,” Daniel said. “We have to assume that. Sam, you programmed the lockdown procedures...”

“The access tunnels are unaffected,” she said. “Let's go.”

*****

Carter and Sheppard slid down the ladders of the access tunnels, banking on speed over safety. Marines they passed along the way were shouted at, ordered to call off the hunt for McKay and to follow them, they were needed, there was a breach at the gate.

Daniel, Vala, Jeannie, and Landry climbed down at a more sane pace, less willing to break ankles or necks.

“Dr. Jackson, if you hadn't invited him,” Landry growled, huffing at the effort of climbing through his pain.

“Jack invited a Delta Green cell into the SGC,” Daniel countered. “If this is them, and I have no doubt, then Dr. McKay is not the problem. And we'd still be here, in the access tunnels, while someone messes with the gate.”

“Is this a common occurrence?” Jeannie asked.

“More than you would hope,” Vala admitted. She looked around, into each branching tunnel that ran between the levels. Down one she could see glowing green eyes. “Ah, a native,” she said happily, ignoring the confused and annoyed looks fore and aft of her as she stopped her descent. “Excuse me, but someone is messing with our stargate and they've locked down the entire mountain. Do you know of a faster way down?”

“Wait, is that Meredith?” Jeannie realized.

Those eyes crept closer, a faint hissing question drifting from the darkness. _Will they shoot me if they see me?_

“Radio's down,” Daniel said. “Sam and John went first to notify the troops but if they can't secure the gate...”

Rodney poked his head out into the main shaft. It was a long way down but... _You really think Delta Green is bold enough to try to take down the gate?_

“It's Sam's theory,” Daniel said, shrugging.

“Wait, what's he saying?” Landry demanded. He was ignored.

“That's why we need to get down there as fast as possible,” Daniel continued.

Rodney murred, claws clenching at the smooth painted concrete of the shaft walls. That murr seemed to turn odd as one eye locked onto Daniel and he purred.

“Um, wait...” Daniel said. It was all he got the chance to say before the Deep One careened headfirst down the shaft, whipping its tail around his waist and yanking him off of the ladder. They disappeared down the shaft, Daniel yelling his protests as he was held firm in the grasp of Rodney's tail.

“Dammit, Meredith, wait!” Jeannie shouted as she shot down the tunnel after them, crawling and sliding and bounding headfirst like her brother.

Vala and Landry watched with differing levels of interest and disturbance. “I do believe Jeannie is more of a creature than she realizes,” Vala said.

Landry could only nod, wide-eyed.

Vala tapped him. “We need to get down there,” she said, nearly scolding. “We need to retake the gate.” She continued her descent in a quick yet sane, human manner, one rung after the other. It seemed like forever before she heard the general follow.

*****

“There's supposed to be a security team down here,” Sam said. “Where are they?”

Level 28 was locked down, though it didn't prevent her from hotwiring the doors to Stargate Operations. It should have been a simple matter of removing the keypad, untangling the wires, then crossing the right ones. It should have been but the keypads were already removed. Someone was definitely down here.

Operations was a mess. The screens showing gate status all flashed red, the room was stiflingly hot, the technicians were missing, and worst of all was the exquisitely carved dagger slammed into the equipment array that translated information between the gate and the supercomputer.

“Is that...” Sheppard looked closely at the dagger, ignoring the sparks that still jumped from the machine. “Tell me someone didn't try to sacrifice the computer.”

Sam looked through the bank of windows separating Operations from the gate itself. “Oh shit,” she swore.

“I'm on it,” Sheppard said, running out the door toward the gateroom.

On the ramp to the stargate stood a man and he was laughing.

 


	22. A Series of Bad Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is going to go badly. There's no way this can't go wrong.

The door to the gate room was open, the keypad lay broken on the floor and wires yanked out of the wall. Sheppard ran up to the door, crouching down outside it for a quick review of the situation. One madman in front of the stargate. Operations personnel missing. Operations computer damaged, gate status unknown. The iris was open and there was no reason to expect it could be closed without extensive repair.

Sheppard didn't have a weapon. The gate armory was locked down and Carter was busy trying to revive Operations.

But that didn't mean he wasn't armed.

Sheppard thought back on what the book had said, the tantalizing words lurking behind his mind as he recalled the couplets of the _Necronomicon_. He whispered the tones, the odd sounds that dared called themselves words, filling his mind with their strange slimy sensation.

And then he threw the door open and thrust his will out at the madman.

Shrieking laughter broke into a simple shriek as the man held his hands in front of his face, hands that blackened and shriveled as Sheppard watched and realized...

He...

Oh God...

He did that?

And then the madman's eyes flashed with anger and Sheppard couldn't breathe.

*****

Rodney and Daniel dropped down into the corridor on level 28. Rodney ignored the plaintive 'ow' behind him as he dragged Daniel with his tail to Operations. _The stargate is Singing, it can't be Singing, I mean it always Sings but this is real, I can hear it and I know you can, Daniel, you're a cultist if ever I saw one._

“Gee, thanks,” Daniel said dryly.

_But I'm not doing it and if you're not doing it either then someone or something is messing with our gate. You said They mess with the gates, try to shut down the trails across the Void, collapse the wormholes, could They make the gate Sing? Or is it Singing to drive Them off? What are They doing?_

“I don't think this is the Ancients,” Daniel said. “It violates Their whole 'non-interference' excuse.”

_That's a bunch of bullshit and you know it. Hell, you were Them, you'd know this better than I do. They break Their own rules, right? Wouldn't They?_

“They didn't lift a finger to help us when the Ori were about to destroy us and Them. They sent a Dissident to do it and then punished her for doing her job.”

Rodney stopped, gaping. That gape turned into a huff and a growl. _Somehow I am not surprised._

“Discuss Ancient politics later,” Daniel said, dragging Rodney toward Operations. “First we have to retake the gate.”

_Good idea. You find out what's going on in Ops, I'll hit the armory._

Daniel waved dismissively as the Deep One bounded off down an opposing hallway.

“I thought the Ancients were good guys,” said a voice. “Or at least neutrals.”

Daniel glanced back and wondered how Jeannie had kept up with Rodney's headfirst careen down the access shaft. “Doesn't matter,” he said. “There may be a problem in Stargate Operations. Your brother's--”

“Off to the armory, I heard,” Jeannie said. “Let's get down to Ops.”

They found the door pre-hacked and open. Sam Carter seemed distracted while she pounded at a keyboard, trying to get the computer to respond in a meaningful manner. Jeannie saw the damage to the equipment array. She knew it wasn't irreplaceable, it was just the translation system that took supercomputer data and turned it into something the gate would understand but... did someone stab it? Why?!

She turned to ask but saw why Daniel was so quiet. He was staring out the windows at the silent looming gate and at John Sheppard collapsing on his knees before a man with burnt arms. A man they'd all seen before.

*****

“I am the Archivist,” the man said with a sneer. “So polite of you to introduce yourself. Or it would have been had you not been dabbling in forbidden arts and done this!” He raised his blackened arms, gesturing painful-looking hands burnt to curling claws.

Sheppard couldn't breathe. His chest felt heavy, full, and he could taste brine in the back of his throat. He heaved his own diaphragm, trying to force himself into a cough, but instead all he felt was a bubbling and then a gush of saltwater falling from his own mouth.

He fell to his knees in front of this madman who wasn't anywhere near as insane as he'd first claimed. Delta Green's Archivist, the man who ranted about his precious filing system, rallied against creatures in the archives, called him a race traitor for 'enthralling' himself to Rodney.

Doctor Emmett Brown. At least, that was the name he claimed.

“I told you your proclivities would be your end,” Doc Brown continued. “Look at you. On your knees before your better because that Deep One you've indentured yourself to didn't spend the time to teach you proper magic.”

Sheppard flinched even as his head swam. He leaned forward, falling to his hands and knees and tried to force the water from his lungs.

Burnt black skin felt hideous as it grabbed his head and yanked him back up to look. “You're barely even a sorcerer,” Doc Brown snarled. “You're too soft. That's why you failed. You faltered. You couldn't stand to watch as your spell worked its power. But I...”

Doc Brown stepped back, slowly ascending the ramp toward the stargate. “I read the books, too,” he said. “How could I not? I am the Archivist, I care for the books, keep them in order, keep their secrets safe from the prying and the stupid. Like you, naïve little thrall, you are very stupid. You dare to think yourself, what, protected? Cared for? Wanted? An **equal**?!” He laughed, long and loud and mad.

The laughter stopped mid-gasp as he pointed in a generally outward direction. “That out there is a Deep One! It doesn't feel, it doesn't care, it doesn't even think! It's an animal! It was never even human, it was just a monster pretending! And not very well, no, I've read it's file. Mutilated itself so it could pass as human, preyed on the weak souls of Miskatonic for sympathy! And then it joined the Atlantis Expedition. Of course, where else would a creature like that feel at home? At the bottom of an ocean! In a sunken city!” He laughed, cruel and humorless. “With Y'ha-nthlei destroyed there was nowhere else for it to go.”

Sheppard dropped forward again, coughing up a great gout of water. He took a shaking, rattling, painful breath. “Y'ha-nthlei... is not...”

“The thrall is trying to speak,” Doc Brown crooned. “How precious.”

Sheppard glared up at the Archivist, saltwater still trickling from his lips. “Y'ha-nthlei is... not... destroyed...”

And then the gate began to spin.

*****

Rodney found the armory. The door was locked and locked down, keypad blinking happily red next to the physically locked door.

He pried off the keypad cover when he heard a click behind him.

“Don't move, Dr. McKay.”

Rodney couldn't help the sigh as he slowly moved his hands away from the keypad, sliding them down the wall. He swiveled an eye back to see a marine in combat fatigues with a sidearm drawn.

“I don't know what's going on here but for some reason I'm under orders to take you in.”

Rodney murred and slid one claw up to the metal door of the armory.

“I said don't move.”

Rodney stopped, then began gently tapping on the metal door with one claw.

Tap scrape. Pause. Scrape tap tap tap. Pause. Scrape tap scrape tap. The letters A, B, and C.

The marine's eyes went wide. “Morse code?” he asked.

Rodney murred and bleated.

“That's right, you can't talk.”

Tap tap tap. Pause. Scrape scrape scrape. Pause. Tap tap tap. _SOS_.

“Do you know what's going on?”

Scrape tap scrape scrape. Pause. Tap. Pause. Tap tap tap.  _Yes._

“Tell me.”

Rodney watched as the marine lowered his sidearm, though he stayed far out of arm's or tail's reach. That weapon stayed down as Rodney brought both hands into play, tapping and scraping out a short explanation in Morse Code. _Something's wrong with the gate. Dr. Jackson went to try and take control at Ops. I came here to get armed in case it's as bad as I think._

“The base is in lockdown. We can't get in.”

Tap tap. Pause. Pause. Scrape tap scrape tap. Pause. Tap scrape. Pause. Scrape tap. _I can._

“You can? How?”

Rodney purred. He went back to hotwiring the keypad. That went quickly but then there was the physical lock to contend with. He snapped off a side of the keypad's casing and shimmied it into the seam between door and wall.

Click.

Rodney stepped back as the door to the armory opened.

“Not bad, McKay.” The marine held out a hand. “Sergeant Ward.”

McKay took his hand and shook it before making a beeline for the zats, grabbing a couple of thigh holsters on the way.

Sergeant Ward sighed and grabbed a P-90. “All right, first we need to check the gate.”

Rodney snarled at him, just stopped himself from blasting the man's mind by trying to talk. Instead he quickly tapped his dissent on a wall. _Ops is more important. From there we can see the gate._

“Gate first,” Ward insisted. “If Operations is down the gate is our first priority.”

Rodney growled, dorsal spines rising as he crouched and bared his teeth.

Then the automatic alarm began to sound. Off-world activation.

*****

The gate was spinning. Sam looked down at the computer she was trying to pound into submission but it insisted the gate wasn't receiving an outside signal, therefore this couldn't be coming from off-world. She glanced back at the translation banks but they were still in shambles, even if Jeannie Miller was rerouting pathways manually by splicing wires. How...

She looked up at Daniel, who she realized was fixated almost painfully on the gate, chanting under his breath.

“No way,” she whispered, eyes wide. And then she saw him shudder, hands twitching as he fought to stand.

Sam had no idea why she grasped his hand, only that suddenly she was caught in his vice-like grip and she could feel an odd tugging at her mind. The gate continued to spin, a single chevron locking into place.

And then words flooded her mind. Not McKay's words, not Daniel's, they were no voice she knew. They were barely even words, just sounds.

She closed her eyes and let those sounds fall from her lips.

The gate spun a little faster, another chevron locking on.

“Oh my god, what's happening?” Jeannie asked. Her voice sounded so far away, so inconsequential behind the words that weren't words, the odd pull through her hand, Daniel's voice in her ears as his chanting grew louder, as her own voice joined it. Sam opened her eyes, everything blurring into strange colors that pulsed along with the spin of the brightly glowing gate.

She could **see** the gate's Song...

*****

Jeannie looked back and forth between the gate and the two people before her. It was ludicrous, ridiculous, but their chanting rose and fell with the grinding of the gate's spin as a third chevron locked in. Daniel looked like he was in agony, barely able to stand, and she reached out for him, grabbing his free hand.

A vice-like claw closed over her hand, gripping tightly as she screamed. Fire lanced through her, dragging something she wasn't willing or able to acknowledge up to the surface. Words bubbled up from within her, words that matched the sounds behind the chant, words she realized she'd heard as a child.

They spilled from her in a great shriek.

_Ph'nglui shoggor sll'hayar uln ch'ftaghu zhrog!_

And the gate... answered.

*****

Doc Brown gaped as though personally affronted by the spinning of the gate and the chanting in Operations. His fists balled in fury, as though he could will it all to stop.

Sheppard took the opportunity, charging forward to slam his shoulder into the Archivist's belly. He knocked the man off his feet even as Sheppard fell back to his knees, coughing and choking on the water still spilling from his own lungs.

Doc Brown got to his feet, stalking up to Sheppard. He delivered a swift kick to his ribs. “How dare you...” he snarled. “You think this will **help** anything? You think your friend there has any control over what comes through? You think he can even manage it? You think you can stop me?!”

Another chevron locked in as the door to the gateroom slammed open.

Sheppard looked up through the grey haze of pain and oxygen deprivation, as he gasped for painful searing breaths. He thought he could see McKay there, crouched and snarling, a marine following dutifully behind. He saw the marine raise his sidearm and fire even as the last chevron locked and the gate opened.

And then the screaming began.

*****

Daniel vaguely felt himself screaming. Ethereal claws ripped at him, tearing at his self, his center, at what remained of his soul. Burning golden hooks latched onto his bones, his organs, his insides and pulled. He could feel the hooks shredding him, rending him apart, tearing him away from this plane.

But then he felt hands. Hands and arms and the warm press of bodies gripping him, pulling him back, holding him together even as the hooks yanked and twisted and their strings broke. He shook and shuddered as hands and arms and life and people and Sam and coils and one single leathery wing all wrapped around him, soothed the rends, sealed the tears, licked his wounds even as something else watched him, wrapped around him, poked and prodded and caressed and touched...

He knew on some visceral level that he'd passed out long ago.

But it didn't stop.

It never stopped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words of the chant were cobbled together using the R'lyehian dictionary on [Yog-Sothoth.com](http://www.yog-sothoth.com/wiki/index.php/R'lyehian).
> 
> The spell Sheppard cast was [Shrivelling](http://letsgetweird.info/?page_id=515), the one cast on him was [Breath of the Deep](http://letsgetweird.info/?page_id=510).


	23. A Different Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank the gods it's over. It... it is over, right? We got the gate back, why isn't it over?

Daniel opened his eyes.

This place was familiar. Soft beeps of machinery, too-bright lights shining down in his eyes, scratchy fabric keeping him from floating away. The infirmary?

“Hey.”

Daniel looked over and saw her. Sam sat next to his bed, looking... Well, she did look different, though not in any physical sense. Instead it was as if someone had latched hooks on her soul and tugged, tried to pull her apart even as they did the same to him. “I almost ascended,” he whispered. “Again.”

Sam shuddered even as her eyes danced with a strange inner fire. “I felt it,” she admitted. “It was like being tugged in every direction. I... didn't want to go. What do you remember?”

Daniel stared off into the wall. “I remember asking the gate to open,” he said. “I remember hearing it answer. But I couldn't do it, and then...”

“We did it,” Sam breathed. “You and me and Jeannie Miller.”

“What happened?”

*****

The Archivist faltered when he was shot in the shoulder, a subduing shot meant to leave prisoners. He staggered back toward the gate as the last few chevrons locked into place and the backsplash claimed him as sacrifice.

The gate sat open, quiet, shining in the flashing red of emergency lights. It rippled, pretty and enticing, before the wormhole closed and the gateroom fell dark.

General Landry and Vala came in then to find Sam and Daniel collapsed on the floor of Operations, Jeannie Miller kneeling next to their unconscious forms, the three of them surrounded by flashing red and inoperative computers.

“We opened the gate,” was all she said before staring down at her hands like she was afraid of them.

Sergeant Ward gave an account, of how he found McKay in the hallway, how they broke into the armory and went to defend the gate. Sheppard's lungs were still half-filled with saltwater, his breathing labored and agonizing. There was enough of the Archivist left on the gate ramp to corroborate his story.

Landry resolutely ignored any mention of spellcasting from Colonel Sheppard's end, choosing to focus on what the Archivist had done. It was the last straw.

Delta Green protested their ban from the SGC complex, claiming the actions of the Archivist were the result of a rogue cell in their ranks, but General O'Neill had influence. Meanwhile, Delta Green's assets left inside the mountain were being held while Dr. Bill Lee took the chance to make copies of everything.

The lockdown was lifted as soon as the gate was declared secure and the Operations team were found.

*****

“I woke up here,” Sam finished. “Sheppard's on partial bedrest, Jeannie hit the pool and hasn't been out for hours, Landry's holed up in his office with a bottle of something, Vala's lurking, and Caldwell beamed in to translate for McKay, who has been bugging Lee to no end.”

“I remember... She was the only one who could say the words right...” Daniel still focused on the opening of the gate, how his throat couldn't manage the words quite right, how the gate had sputtered and resisted and rings ground against one another, and then once her voice joined them... “She can say the words, Sam.”

“McKay, too,” Sam admitted. “It's their anatomy, I think. The throat's different.”

“I remember,” Daniel said, dragging himself into a sitting position. His entire body hurt, aching where the hooks had grabbed him, tore at his flesh. Or perhaps the hooks weren't real and the pain was just in his head. “We almost ascended. Both of us. Did she, is she...”

Sam sighed. “Pull yourself together, Daniel.”

He thought about it before giving her a deep glare. Yes, she **was** grinning at him like she knew precisely how bad of a joke she'd just made. “I hate you.”

Sam sat next to him on the narrow hospital bed, draped an arm over his shoulders.

They didn't say that they could see the scars where claws had torn at their souls, where threads snapped and golden hooks still remained embedded in their minds. That they could see where ascension began and had been forcibly stopped. They didn't mention the seams that held them together, haphazardly stitched cracks that glowed deep black-red, stitches of golden thread that could so easily be ripped asunder to restart the process.

They didn't have to say it.

They both knew.

*****

Jeannie looked up at the sound.

It was an odd sound, one she'd never had the chance to get used to before. It reminded her of things, of her situation, of the fact that her lungs burned inside her chest.

It was time to surface anyway.

She found herself wanting to ignore the sound, ignore the burning, just stay here and not have to deal with any of it. But then it was embarrassing for someone like her to die of drowning.

She kicked off the bottom of the pool, swimming lazily up the ten feet to the surface. She breached, taking a deep breath as her eyes adjusted to the chance in medium, in color, in qualities she didn't want to think about.

“You could have just come in,” she said. Meredith crouched on the tile edge. It was his claws that had splashed, enticing her to the surface.

“Ten minutes, 43 seconds.”

Jeannie glared half-heartedly at the marine standing on the edge of the pool with a stopwatch. She hadn't agreed to more tests, he just showed up. Behind him there were exchanges of sour looks and money. Somehow she couldn't even feel offended that they were betting on her.

“What is it, Mer?” she asked, treading water lazily. She wasn't even out of breath.

_Dr. Jackson's awake. He and Sam are going to be fine._

Jeannie dipped underwater, kicking over to the edge of the pool. She popped up, draping deceptively human arms over the edge. “That's good,” she said, though her heart wasn't in it.

_Sheppard and I will be going home tomorrow. On the Daedalus._

“Good,” she said, still subdued.

 _And you've been cleared to go home to your English major._ Her sigh wasn't what he was expecting. _What? Aren't you happy? We all get to go home, Delta Green didn't cut the world off from the rest of the galaxy, we saved the day! I mean, I know I get to save the day all the time but it's not usually Earth, yanno?_

Jeannie reached up and tugged at her brother. He took the hint and jumped in the water. She swam up to him, felt black claws and chitinous scales on her skin as she pulled him close.

_What is it?_

“I... I don't know,” she admitted. “When we opened the gate...”

_Yes, I heard the others almost ascended from the power. Did that happen to you? I mean, it almost happened to me once, it was amazing and painful, really painful, but there was a machine and I got better and I still wonder if that machine made me Change faster._

“I did feel something,” she admitted. “But it wasn't that. It... didn't hurt. It was... different...”

Rodney purred as he kicked lazily to keep them on the surface where she could speak. He didn't nuzzle her, it felt wrong somehow, something about her being his sister. _It wasn't like being tugged apart by gold thread? Burned alive by your own energy? Searing from the inside out due to the fire of your own soul?_

Jeannie snorted. “God, Meredith, where do you get these ideas? No, it was... I was in Ops and the words just came to me and the gate opened and then... I was in a room. There was a man, a tall dark nice man. He had a book. My name was in it.”

Rodney went still. They dropped below the water before he kicked to bring them back up.

“You've seen him,” Jeannie realized, pulling away from him with accusing eyes.

Rodney murred. _What did he say?_

“Don't change the subject, Mer.”

_You brought him up. What did he say?_

Jeannie growled at him.

Rodney darted to the bottom of the pool. _He made sure I remember what I am, okay? And he helped me. I don't know why but he helped me._

“That's... kind of what happened to me,” Jeannie said.

Rodney surfaced so he could hear her better.

“He gave me a choice,” she said. “One fate or another.”

_And which did you choose?_

“I... don't know,” Jeannie said, not looking at him. “I don't remember.”

*****

The large size of the gateroom made it ideal for mass beam-outs. Caldwell stood next to Corporal Evans and an obviously exhausted, barely standing John Sheppard. Landry stood across from them. It felt like the end of a negotiation when two entirely different factions gathered for their final goodbyes before parting, sighing, and then getting drunk with relief.

Or maybe Rodney was the only one getting that vibe as he stood in the middle of those two factions, bleating and barking his goodbyes. Jeannie hugged him and thanked him, promising to keep him up to date on Madison's antics. Vala nuzzled him as he murred awkwardly, knowing that she knew full well how intimate the action was. Then he came to Daniel and Sam.

Rodney wondered if anyone else could see the strange black-red glow in their eyes. Dr. Jackson he expected but Sam, his beautiful Sam...

Sam winked at him. Rodney murred, wondering if anyone else had noticed. Nobody said anything, but then, why would they?

“I don't think I'll be back on Atlantis any time soon,” Daniel said.

“Being electrocuted will do that,” Caldwell said dryly.

Daniel nuzzled Rodney, running his fingers down Rodney's dorsal spines. Rodney purred, eyes falling closed before he pulled back and huffed. Daniel's smile was far too wicked for polite company. “I have things to do here,” Daniel said. “You understand.”

Rodney thought he did and the implications were disturbing.

Sam took Daniel's place, rubbing a finger up and down the scales on Rodney's snout. His eyes went wide and he purred a question.

“Not a chance, McKay,” she said, laughing.

He made a show of slumping down in mock defeat, but her laugh... She was just as frightening as Daniel.

They stepped back as Rodney stepped toward Caldwell.

The world went white.

*****

The trip back to Atlantis was surprisingly uneventful. Aside from the time someone hacked Communications to play a radio play of _The Shadow Over Innsmouth_ over the PA system it was downright normal.

Nobody ever did figure out who did it. There were those who blamed McKay himself. It was, after all, entertaining: the bad accents were hilarious, the screaming was ridiculous, and the ending sent many wondering eyes staring at him. And who else would be able to keep the PA system thoroughly hacked for the entire hour?

After that incident Rodney decided not to hide out in his quarters, instead roaming about the ship like anyone else. The power conduits left him purring and tingling, the hyperspace crystals glowed with a Song he'd never imagined, the mess hall had the good MREs, Corporal Evans kept asking him questions and listening in rapt attention to the answers, even Sheppard was back to some semblance of normality by the time they were approaching the Pegasus outskirts.

He was on the bridge when the _Daedalus_ hailed Atlantis.

“Atlantis, this is the _Daedalus_ ,” Caldwell said. “Permission to land.”

“Permission granted,” Woolsey said. “The East Pier is free. I hear you have some of our missing personnel?”

“Right here,” Caldwell said.

“I look forward to their reports,” Woolsey said. “Atlantis out.” The communication ended.

Rodney murred, eyes wide. They had to write reports? About the whole thing?! Surely that was a joke!

_Please tell me he's joking, Colonel._

Caldwell glanced at Rodney, face twisted in something like pity.


	24. An Extended Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's over, we can all go home. And nothing like that will ever happen again. Right? Right?!

Woolsey looked up from the files in front of him. The authors were sitting, or, well, crouching in Dr. McKay's case, across the desk from him, looking all around the office to avoid having to look him in the eye.

Woolsey could understand why. These reports were a mess. It was almost like they'd spent their entire time on the _Daedalus_ goofing off, pounding out their reports in one frantic night. He looked at the timestamps on these reports, found them to be five minutes before and two minutes after their due date at 0800 this morning. He looked at Sheppard, saw the darkness under his eyes that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of the Archivist's spell.

He wisely didn't mention it.

“So, the Archivist went mad,” Woolsey sighed. “That makes three for three.”

“Three for three what?” Sheppard asked.

“Delta Green has had three Archivists in charge of the Innsmouth data,” Woolsey explained. “The first one went insane. He smashed the stone tablets of the _R'lyeh Text_ , set fire to most of the papers, and when faced with death or surrender he doused himself in gasoline and added himself to the pyre.”

Rodney murred. _The first one? Do I want to know what happened to the others?_

“The second went on a murder spree in Virginia, shot up a beach before he died. Suicide by cop, it's been called. And you know what happened to the third one.”

“Why even keep Archivists?” Sheppard asked. “Why not lock this stuff in a vault like _Indiana Jones_?”

“Because, Colonel, this is not fantasy,” Woolsey said firmly. “This is reality. In reality we don't try to forget things in warehouses. We study them. We learn from them.”

_If it's anything like Area 51, yeah. And then anything we learn is slowly leaked into mainstream society. Solid-state transistors, liquid crystal technology, microwave hot pockets..._

Woolsey wasn't so sure about the hot pocket being an alien invention but he let it slide. “That's why Delta Green has always split itself into cells of three. It's safer that way. If one cell is compromised another can stop it. At least, that was their justification. Personally, I think they're still enamored with the past. The NID hasn't sent its agents out in pairs since that movie.”

_Wait, what movie?_

“We used to wear black suits, too. You know, I miss those suits. And the sunglasses.”

Rodney's dorsal spines raised as he squeaked at Sheppard, who responded with a wide grin.

Woolsey recognized that grin and resisted the urge to slump down in his desk. “Fine, I'll suggest _Men in Black_ for the next movie night,” he said glumly. “Will that bring us back on track?”

Rodney purred, tail lashing behind him as he softly hissed his amusement. Sheppard elbowed him to shut him up, unable to hide his own grin.

“Colonel, it was a mistake to allow you to go as Dr. McKay's Fata Monere.”

“It worked out all right,” Sheppard defended. “We stopped the Archivist from messing with the Earth gate, we got McKay's Veil, Dr. Jackson is crazy again but at least he's not dead.”

_Again. You mean 'at least he's not dead again'._

“And we prevented a hostile takeover of the SGC by rogue Delta Green agents. I think we did pretty well.”

“You've duplicated the Innsmouth data,” Woolsey said. “Now there will be two Archivists.”

Sheppard opened his mouth to reply but McKay beat him to it. _Dr. Jackson is already insane. What, is the evil knowledge going to make him more insane? Think of what we could learn from that data if the Archivist wasn't blinded by sanity. Imagine the wealth of information that we could have had if the First Archivist was already mad._

To tell the truth, Woolsey was trying not to imagine it. “This will shake up everything,” he warned.

“So will the Stargate Program once that gets out,” Sheppard said.

Woolsey had to agree. He supposed all he could hope... “And the SGC will be sending their known hybrids here?”

_Well, they'll be given the option and I will be screening them for idiocy but if they're hybrids they shouldn't be that dumb. And if they are, well, I suppose we could apprentice them to Major Lorne. He knows art, right? And I brought back some jewelry..._

Woolsey felt his mind rebel as McKay brought out the jewelry he'd brought back. Gold, disturbing, intricate, an armlet of fragile seaweed and a bracelet of delicate fishes encased in bubbles. All he could think as he was forced to stare at the pieces was 'at least it's not a tiara.'

*****

Kaleb awoke to find the bed curiously empty.

It didn't start that way. Jeannie was home after another weeks-long stint gone with her brother, another trip she couldn't talk about. The reunion was oddly tearful on Jeannie's part and she hadn't wanted to let anyone go, neither Madison nor Kaleb.

But Madison had school in the morning and Kaleb, well, once they'd gotten Mads into bed...

Kaleb smiled at the memories and the exquisite soreness that hit him with his every movement. He would be feeling this for **days**. He stretched languidly in bed, hissing at the sensations of heat and the memory of sweet pain, the twitch of his anatomy as it grew interested in another round. But that would require Jeannie, require finding her.

The bathroom light was on, bright among the midnight blackness of the bedroom.

He sat up, fumbling around for a pair of sleep pants, underwear, anything just in case young eyes and young minds came barging in. He pulled on pajama pants and followed the light.

Jeannie stood there wearing nothing but an open bathrobe, leaning over the counter as she peered intently into her own eyes.

“Can't sleep?” Kaleb asked.

Jeannie glanced at him via the mirror before leaning away from the glass. She took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her from behind.

“Do I look different?” she asked.

Kaleb kissed the curve of her slender neck. “How so?” he asked.

He followed her worried eyes back to the mirror. She looked as she always had, blonde curly hair in disarray, smooth skin a shade too pale on her belly, green-grey eyes large and expressive, her smile just a touch too wide. There'd always been something about her, an otherworldy quality that drew him to her years ago. Even then he should have known, should have suspected, should have seen the difference.

“You look fine,” he assured.

Jeannie shook her head. “I feel different,” she admitted. “I... don't know how to explain it, I just...”

Kaleb nuzzled her neck. “You've never bitten me on the back of the neck before,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “Maybe we could... do that again?”

Jeannie gave him a look that did not quite mesh with his own playfully aroused expression. “Something's changed,” she whispered as she looked back in the mirror.

And maybe her eyes were just a little different, their color wider, the pupils deeper, a promise of ocean secrets in their faint pale shine. “Whatever happens, I'm yours,” he promised.

She reached up, draping her arms over his shoulders as she leaned back into his embrace and began to purr.

*****

“Colonel Sheppard, you went to aid Dr. McKay in his search, not to read the _Necronomicon_ and learn spells.”

_They're not spells._

Sheppard elbowed McKay into shutting up. This debriefing was taking hours. There wasn't anything 'brief' about it. “It was just the one,” Sheppard defended. “And besides, I wasn't the only one. McKay defused a situation with Dr. Jackson by Singing to him. Put him right on his knees.”

Woolsey turned tired eyes at the Deep One crouched the wrong way in a chair. Rodney murred. _He was ranting about the Ascended Ancient's plans to cut off all the stargates, I had to do something._

“What plan?” Woolsey demanded.

Sheppard gave McKay a distinct 'you did this' look.

_Well, you see, according to Dr Jackson..._

*****

Peter Kavanagh held his head high as he walked the halls of the SGC, level 18. He'd received a summons right after another tense off-world mission where his military escort refused his commands and thus another marine got himself killed. This smacked of transfer, again.

But why Dr. Jackson's lab? Why not yet another dressing-down by a general who couldn't begin to understand his work?

He punched in the code, sliding his keycard. The lab door opened.

Great. Just great. Kavanagh stood straighter, a sneer blooming on his face as he saw Colonel Carter next to Dr. Jackson. So the dressing down would be unofficial, then. He always hated those.

“Come in,” Daniel said. “Close the door.”

The door clicked ominously as Peter stepped in. He stood before the man's desk, waiting for the verbal blows so he could defend himself.

The shouting never came. Instead Daniel opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a manuscript wrapped in black silk. He carefully placed it on the desk before Kavanagh and unfolded the silks, revealing the title page.

Kavanagh's eyes went wide.

He brought his hands up but he was afraid to touch it. Was this some sort of joke? Was it a fake? Was it **real**?

He looked over at Daniel and Carter, saw their oddly anticipatory looks. Daniel nodded assuringly, though it wasn't a comfort. “It's real,” Daniel said. “Incomplete, of course. All of the Dee copies are incomplete.”

“It's real...” Kavanagh looked down at the manuscript of the _Necronomicon_ in front of him and gently laid the pages open. He knew what this meant. His ideas, everything he'd worked toward, it was all true! Extradimensional travel using the power of a properly conditioned mind, alien civilizations who uplifted the Ancients to settle the entire Local Group, each stargate network a semi-sentient extension of one single super-consciousness...

“Lovecraft was right,” Daniel agreed. “About many things. The Ancient base beneath Antarctica's 'Mountains of Madness', the Deep Ones still influencing our evolution as they have for millions of years, the blind idiot gods dancing in the center of every major galaxy to the tune of monotonous spheres, even Nyarlathotep's Black Book full of witches and mathematicians. It's all true.”

Kavanagh laid both his hands on the manuscript, felt the supple vellum marred by scratches of ink. “Why are you telling me this?” he whispered.

“The SGC has recently come into a large amount of... data,” Carter said. “Files, manuscripts, photographs, translations. We don't even know all of what's there.”

“I'm not a librarian,” Kavanagh snapped.

Daniel and Carter glanced at each other, almost too quick for Peter to see. “What's going on?” he demanded

“We don't want a librarian,” Carter said. “We don't expect a librarian would survive with their mind intact. We don't want cataloging or filing or organizing. We want someone who can read those files and come out alive. We want someone who understands what's at stake and why this information needs to be learned, if possible used. We want someone who already knows their name is in the Black Book and why.”

Kavanagh shuddered. “How do you... What is... I...”

Daniel smiled, broad and dark. “The last Archivist went mad and tried to dismantle our stargate,” he said, almost purring. “We had to open the Way to **Yog-Sothoth** to stop him.”

Kavanagh almost fell out of his chair at the odd rumble that name induced. It was like he was hearing the name in its proper accent for the very first time. His eyes darted in horror between Daniel and Sam. He fancied he could see something shining black-red behind their eyes. He took a deep breath, steadied himself. “If I refuse?” he asked.

Sam smiled. “You walk out of there, no harm done,” she said. “You go back to being shunted from SG team to SG team, never fitting in. Maybe a transfer to the _Daedalus_ , maybe Antarctica, maybe Siberia. Never staying long enough to finish a project, never given the chance. Always the complaints following you: arrogant, haughty, horrible person, refuse to work with him again. Eventually something will come up, like Midway almost did, somewhere quiet, lonely, dull, unappreciated. A wasted career for such talent.”

Kavanagh's stomach burned and his face flushed with anger. Too many years of that, too much already. Never respected, never appreciated, always that slight flush of vindication when someone died because they didn't listen to him, their own fault, their own idiocy. “And if I agree?”

“Your main posting will be here, under my supervision,” Daniel said. “Occasionally you'll be tasked with something on the _Daedalus_ , all the easier to use its long days in hyperspace. You will be tasked with correlating different data sets, scriptures, and formulae to find the underlying reality beneath them. We have several books, manuscripts, folios, a potential in with Miskatonic University, and we have every scrap of data from the Innsmouth Raids.”

Kavanagh felt his anger fading, an intense longing bubbling up beneath it. He caressed the vellum of the open _Necronomicon_ before him. “I won't be transferred anymore?” he asked.

“No,” Sam promised. “You won't be overridden, you won't be forgotten, you won't be ignored. Not here. Not for this.”

Kavanagh looked straight into the black-red eyes of the 'people' before him, and he used that term loosely. He knew he should decline, that this was dangerous. He knew better than anyone the sanity-flensing reality that lurked beneath the human masks before him, that peeked out from within innocent books and flat pages. He should say no. He would say no. He would...

“I accept,” he said.

Daniel and Sam grinned. “Welcome, Archivist,” Daniel said. “You are the fourth to hold that title.”

“And hopefully the last,” Sam drawled.

Kavanagh shuddered. What had he done?

*****

“Now then, are we finished?” Sheppard asked.

The entire day had been wasted and everyone was exhausted, except perhaps for Rodney. Maybe it was being near the ocean again. Maybe it was the swim he'd taken as soon as the _Daedalus_ landed, diving off the East Pier like the city was on fire. Maybe it was just some twisted scientist thing where they didn't need sleep.

Whatever it was, Woolsey wanted some of it. He hadn't been up all night pounding out slipshod reports yet he felt as if he had.

_There is one thing..._

“Oh?” Woolsey asked.

Rodney ignored Sheppard's look of murder. _Since Sheppard apparently fancies himself a sorcerer, what with trying to Shrivel the Archivist, I have a suggestion. An outlet, shall we say._

“McKay...” Sheppard warned.

_What? I found it in the Ponape Scripture at the SGC. It's completely harmless I assure you._

“A spell,” Woolsey realized.

_It's not a spell._ Rodney murred indignantly.

It's a spell, Woolsey thought. “And what would the point or use of this... not-spell be?”

Rodney huffed and flared his dorsal spines but didn't deign to argue. Instead he answered the question. _Two words. 'Fresh sushi'._

Woolsey sat back and thought about that, really thought. He hadn't had good sushi since... And then there was the whole... Of course the men to... And the idea... He had to reach up to wipe the drool from his lips.

_Is that a yes?_

Woolsey glared at him.

Of course it was a yes.

*****

“I feel ridiculous, McKay,” Sheppard shouted at the empty ocean.

_Feeling ridiculous is part of it._

Sheppard sat in a small boat cobbled together out of wood from the mainland. The boat was barely bigger than he was, a fact he was all too aware of. The South-East Pier gave him some protection from the prevailing waves but that protection was temporary as the city drifted lazily in the currents, spun slowly in the uneven winds.

Worst of all McKay seemed to have enlisted an entire platoon of marines to watch him from the edge of the Pier, all of them ordered to make him feel even more ridiculous.

“I'm going to get you for this, McKay,” Sheppard warned. He was armed with nothing more than a net, a long fishing spear, and a bucket of last week's leftovers. Sheppard felt ridiculous and unprepared.

_Yeah and if it works you're doing it again._

“Fuck off,” Sheppard said, more sullen than angry.

There was a splash as Rodney breached the surface and climbed the scant ten feet up to the Pier and the peanut gallery of marines. _The water feels pretty empty, Sheppard, I'd say we're at a good state to perform the first test._

“So you want me to cast the spell?” Sheppard asked, smirking.

Rodney snarled, spines spread and gill plates flared. _It's not a spell!_

“It's a spell, McKay, get over it,” Sheppard grumbled. He could hear the indignant growling from the Pier.

Sheppard sighed. He felt utterly ridiculous. He didn't want to do this. But... it wasn't like he had much of a choice, not with everyone watching. He started tossing handfuls of the bucket's contents overboard, chumming the waters as he began to sing in a ridiculous, sing-song voice.

“Fishy fishy, in the sea, fishy fishy, come to me...”

The marines started shouting things at him, demanding he sing louder, more ridiculous, more sing-songy.

Sheppard put more bounce in his voice. “Fishy fishy, from the deep, fishy fishy, mine to keep...”

The wind kept trying to steal the sound from his voice.

“Fishy fishy, nice and sweet, fishy fishy, tasty meat...”

_Do the dance, Sheppard_.

Sheppard looked back at the Pier and glared at the lot of them. Some of the marines had... cameras... This was going on the wall, wasn't it... Still, he did the odd wiggle Rodney insisted was a necessary part of the ridiculousness of this spell. “Fishy fishy, far and wide, fishy fishy, on the tide...”

The water around his boat began to shift and roil as tiny mouths nibbled at the bait.

“Fishy fishy, in the sea, fishy fishy, come to--”

Sheppard's singing was thrown off as something large slammed into his boat from beneath.

_It works! I didn't think it would! Now, Sheppard, take the net and start scooping in fish!_

Sheppard grabbed for the net and dipped it in the water, bringing up a collection of odd six-finned fish of various smallish sizes. He managed a few scoops before something slammed the underside of his boat again.

“Holy shit!” he shouted as he grabbed the fishing spear and tried to stab the large bony head reaching for him. It was not like any fish he'd seen before, a giant eyeless bone plate covering the entire front of this huge fish. It didn't even have teeth, it didn't need teeth as the ends of that bone plate extended in sharp edges over its jaw. Sheppard saw it all up close as his spear didn't even make a dent, as it grabbed ahold of his boat and crunched.

Sheppard didn't waste any time, jumping into the water and swimming toward the Pier.

He heard the marines spring to action, gunfire hitting the water behind him, spearguns whooshing past him into the flesh behind the monster's bone face, hands reaching out to grab him and haul him to safety.

He made the Pier even as a dozen men with ropes, nets, and a boat hook hauled the monster up nearby.

It was... well...

Sheppard supposed it could be called a fish but it was like no fish he'd heard of. For one thing it was bigger than a great white shark. It had no face, only a large bone or shell plate over the front of its head where its face should be. There were no visible eyes and it had no teeth, rather that plate ended in large ragged edges that somehow seemed worse. It had three pairs of pectoral fins lining its sides, each ending in long curved barbs that might almost be claws if this thing had ever crawled on land. Its tail was lined with a single long ribbon of lobed fin that thrashed about as it tried to throw itself back in the water, trying to take as many human morsels with it as it could manage.

It finally stopped moving when a marine emptied his entire sidearm into the soft spinal curve behind its bone plate.

“I... think we found this world's apex predator.”

Sheppard glanced over at the speaker, some scientist from marine biology. He suppressed the urge to say something obvious.

_Think we can eat it?_

Sheppard caught his breath as the giant fish was broken down, as discussion began of a fish fry, as chatter over the radio turned to Woolsey's demands for sushi, Dr. Keller's shouts to slow down so they could test the meat for toxins first, Ronon's demands for photos, and various requests for french fries.

The _Daedalus_ was still docked. Sheppard felt an excuse for a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fishy-fishy spell was [Attract Fish](http://letsgetweird.info/?page_id=317). It is meant to be ridiculous.


End file.
